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POEMS. 



POEMS, 



BY 



SAMUEL EGERTOM BRYDGES, ESQ. 



THE FOURTH EDITION, 



WITH MANY ADDITIONS. 



LONDON: 

PRINTED BY T.BEXSLEY, BOLT COURT, 

TOR LONGMAN, HURST, REES, AND ORME, PATERNOSTER 
ROWj AND J. WHITE, FLEET-STREET. 



1807. 



71=? ^ Ssl 

i^7 



In iixcnange 
Yale tfniv. Lib, 
18 Mr 1907 




DEDICATION. 

TO MRS. BRYDGES, 

OF ST. LAWRENCE HOUSE, NEAR CANTERBURY. 



O thou, whofe care o'er all my life prefides, 
Whofe hand fupports me, and whofe judgment guides 5 
From jocund parties of the noify bar, 
From crowds, and unendearing circles far,, 
Pleas' d to whofe cheerful roof I Ileal away, 
In fweet domeftic blifs to pafs my day ! 



DEDICATION. 

(For what wild joys, what flattery can fhpply 

The tender watchings of a Mother's eye ?) 

Beneath thy fmiles I catch poetic fire, 

And ftrike with rapt'rous hand my echoing lyre ! 

For Thou without contempt my faults doft bear, 

Tho' oft unmeaning they have drawn thy tear, 

My ill-tim'd ardors, and my fcom to raife 

On the foft arts, that grace the world, my praife j 

Whilft wild Ambition leads my hopes aftray, 

To draw attention to the iimple lay, 

Which ftrives the Fancy's vifions to impart, 

Or wake the flumb'ring feelings of the heart. 

Vain hope ! For to the mofl negle&ed firing 

Of the negle&ed lyre I dare to ling. 

Yet thefe wild wifhes, free from blame, or fcorn, 

With all their train of follies haft thou borne 5 

To whom but thee, my Mother, then belongs 

The fmall requital of my humble fongs ? 



Middle Temple, April 5, 1785. 



PREFACE. 



THE first edition of these Poems 
was published in March 1785, in my 23d 
year. I have now collected many other scat- 
tered pieces, which have since appeared in 
other works; and commit the whole once 
more to the candour of the Public. 

June 16, 1807. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

Dedication - v 



Invocation to Poetry 



SONNETS. 

I. *Reafons for attending to Poetry. To a Friend - 3 

II. *To Mifs M. Written by Moon-light - - 4 

III. *On the Charms of Nature - 5 

IV. *On Dreams - - 6 
V. *On Echo and Silence - - . - 7 

VI. *To Autumn near her Departure - 8 

VII. *On returning to *****#*#*, Nov. 5, 1782 - 9 

VIII, *To a Lady in Illnefs - - - 10 

IX. *To Evening 11 

X. Written on the Approach of the cold Weather, 

Oft. 9, 1783 .---.. 12 

XI. On Hunting - - - - 13 
XII. *To Mifs Milles 14 

XIII. * Written at Wootton, in Kent - - -15 

XIV. *From Lucretius, B. iv. v. p. 577- Concerning 

Echoes - ----- 17 

XV. * Written at Wootton, in Kent - - -is 



x CONTENTS. 

FAGE 

XVI. Upon an Invitation from a Lady to walk on the 

Sea Shore - - - - - -19 

XVII. * Written Nov. 30, 1784 - - 20 

XVIII. Written at Wootton, in Kent - 21 
XIX. On Moor Park, near Farnham, Surrey, formerly 
the Seat of Sir William Temple, whofe Heart 

was buried in the Garden there - - 22 

XX. The Winds - - - - 23 

XXI. To the Rev. Cooper Willyams, A. M. - 24 
XXII. An Evening in May - - - 25 

XXIil. October - - - - - 26 

XXIV. - 27 

XXV. - - „ . 28 

XXVI. To the Moon. From the Story of Mary de 

Clifford - - - - 29 

XXVII. On a Storm. From the fame - - 30 

XXVIII. The Wanderer. From the fame - - 31 

XXIX. Suppofed to be written by Wcodville, at his 

Caftle of Grafton. From the fame - - 32 

XXX. On mutual Love. From the fame - - 33 
XXXI. On Mary's tender Looks. From the fame - - 34 

XXXII. By Mary. On a future State. From the fame 35 

XXXIII. From a Novel - - . - 3 <j 

XXXIV. From the fame. On Pcnfhurft - - s? 
XXXV. From the fame. On Wealth - - 38 

XXXVI. From the fame. A Sea Storm - - 39 

XXXVII. From the fame - - - -40 

XXXVIII. From the fame. Orleton Church-yard - 41 

XXXIX. From a Novel, 1 802 - - - . 42 

XL. From the fame. Spring - - - 43 

XLI. From the fame. Night - - - 44 

XLI. November - - - -45 

XLII. Addrefs to Home - - - - 46 

XLIII. The Storms of Life - - - 47 



CONTENTS. 



ODES. 



I. *To Mifs Kenrick 

II. *On beginning the Study of the Law 

III. *To Mifs L. L. 

IV. *To Spring 

V. *Recollections 
VI. Written in London, 1785 
VII. Written at Ewfhot, in Hants 
VIII. March - - 

IX. On Autumn 
X. On Morning 
XL By Mary de Clifford 
XII. To Mary. By Woodvile 
XIII. *The Six Bards of Oman. 

— Firft Bard 

— Second Bard 

— Third Bard 

— Fourth Bard 

— Fifth Bard 

— Sixth Bard, 
XIV. From a Novel, 1798 

XV. The Viftim of Defpair 



50 
53 
56 
61 
65 
68 
74 
77 
79 
81 
85 

87 
89 
90 
92 
93 
94 
97 
99 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 



Dedication to a Novel, 1802 
Song. From a Novel 
*0n parting from a Lady 
*Lines, accompanying a Legacy 



102 
105 
107 
110 



sii CONTENTS. 

PAGK 

Verfeson the Conftitution, 1792 - - ' - 112 

— — — on ancient Manfions - - - - 1 1 6 

Defcription of Ellen St. Aubyn - - - 119 

Elegy to Mrs. Lefroy, 1782 - - 121 

On the Pleafures of Vieiffitude - 124 

Epitaph on Mr. de Clifford - 128 

Verfes on Anceftry, &c. - - - -130 

Dedication to a Novel, 1799 «. - 132 

Lines, on the Recolle&ion of a Native Spot - - 136 

Addrefs to Ruin - - 139 

Lines on the Times - - - - -142 

-—— to the Memory of a deceafed Friend - - 147 

On the Pleafures moft adapted to a melancholy Mind 149 

Fragment on a deferted Manfion - - - 153 

* To Mifs L. L. on the Author's departure - - 160 

Dirge, 1783 - - - - 163 

The Gamekeeper's Return at Night - - 166 

From a Novel - - - - 169 

Ellen St. Aubyn, the Fragment of a poetical Romance 171 

Elegy, from a Novel - - - - 1 83 

Lines, on the Figure of a feudal Warrior - - 186 

Retirement, a Fragment - - - 193 

Elegiac Lines on the Death of Mrs. Lefroy - - 208 

Notes - - 213 

N.B. The Poems with this mark * were in the Firft Edition 
of 1785. 



( 1 ) 



INVOCATION TO POETRY. 

Aug. 14, 1782. 

O thou, the darling of my infant choice, 

With eyes that catch their radiance from above, 

"Wild Maid, whofe lucid looks and varied voice 
To rapture raife, or melt me into love ! 

Of power at once to charm and to refine, 

. To lull the tortur'd breaft to pleafing fighs, 
Mid life's thick glooms to fhed a light divine, 
Arife, Immortal Poefy, arife ! 

Thou hear'ft— -and lo! the mifty veil withdraws; 

From thy green bower thou lift'ft thylaurell'd head, 
And bidft the vifion'd fcenes of flumber paufe, 

Till on thy rofy couch again thy limbs are laid. 

Around thy waift the thin robe loofely bind, 
And let not coy excufe thy fteps retard, 

Up yonder mifty hill with me to wind, 
And fee the golden gates of Morn unbarr'd. 
B 



( 2 ) 

But when the heavens with noontide fplendor glow; 

O then, as ftretch'd beneath the fhade, we hear 
On airy harp the Zephyrs wake their woe, 

Whifper fome foothing love-tale in mine ear ! 

Nor fail with me to watch the kindling fkies, 

When the Sun's parting beams are ling'ring there, 

And view the clouds in ihadowy caftles rife, 
Till ravith'd fancy all their glories (hare ! 

Or when the pale Moon fheds her milder light, 
To tread the green in melancholy mood, 

Marking each landfcape foften'd to my fight, 
Each found, that ftartles air with echo rude ! 

But let us lie, fweet nymph, at midnight hour, 
And hear far off the howling ftorm complain, 

Till my lull'd fenfes ftealing fleep o'erpower, 
And dreams of fame immortal foothe my brain ! 



SONNETS. 



SONNET I. 
TO A FRIEND. 

REASONS FOR ATTENDING TO POETRY. 

oa. 1, 1782. 

Askest thou, why I court the flighted lyre ? 
In hopes, thro' life 'twill cheer my fleady way, 
Drawn by no worldly pomp, nor cares aftray, 
And give me paffport to the heavenly choir. 

The confcience, pure delight that I infpire, 
And for good deeds alone pour forth the lay, 
No aid, my friend, to lead me calmly gay 
Thro' ignorance and envy will require. 

I ftrike the firings : and lira it my purged ear 

Hears not their praife or blame. For if my fong 
Should, as it breathes, illume the brow of care, 

The fluggard roufe, or bear the faint along; 
Shall I for felf alone have labour'd here ? 
Oh, no ! The plea {hall gain my foul heav'n's tuneful 
throng. 

B2 



( 4 ) 

SONNET II. 

To Miss M 



WRITTEN BY MOON-LIGHT. 

July 18, 17S2. 

Sweet gentle angel, not that I afpire 
To win thy favour, tho' ambition raife 
My wifhes high, I wake anew my laysj 
But that thine image may adorn my lyre 

With beauty, more than fancy could infpire ! 
As, when behind the filver clouds Ihe (trays, 
The moon peeps thro', and fheds a mellow blaze, 
Till woods, hills, vallies, with enchantment fire 5 

So does thy foul, tho' pent in mortal mould, 

Break thro' the brighten'd veil j illume thy form ; 
In thy fweet manners all its powers unfold 5 

With foften'd lights each varied feature warm 3 
And in thine eyes fuch fairy radiance bold, 
That on each object round they beam a magic charm. 



( 5 ) 



SONNET III. 



ON THE CHARMS OF NATURE. 



July 24, 1782. 

Ye alleys green, and high o'er-arching trees, 

Where Summer flings his fragrance wild around, 
And feather'd choirs a native concert found j 
Ye melancholy fighings of the breeze j 

And thou, pale Moon, whofe fairy beamings feize 
My foul with tranfport ever new, art crown'd 
With placid joys, more charming than are found 
Mid golden roofs and lamps, and all the art to pleafe ! 

Can crowded cities, and tumultuous noife, 

Where Envy, Pride, and deep Refentment wake, 
Produce iuch fober, peaceful, genuine joys? 

Can man's vain toils a mimic grandeur make, 

With charms like thefe, whofe pleafure never cloys, 
Whofe varying fweets not Time himfelf can (hake? 



( <5 ) 



SONNET IV. 



ON DREAMS. 



Oa. 15, 1782* 

O gentle Sleep, come, wave thine opiate wing, 
And with thy dewy fingers clofe mine eyes ! 
Then fhall freed Fancy from her cell arife, 
And elves, and fairies dance in airy ring 

Before her fight, and melting vilions bring 
Of virgin love, pure faith, and lonely fighsj 
While on the palling gale foft mufic dies, 
And hands unfeen awake the aerial firing. 

Ye dreams, to me than waking blifs more dear ; 
Love-breathing forms, before my view difplay'd ; 
And fairy fongs, that charm my ravifh'd ear j 

Let blackening cares my day with darknefs fhade, 
In fmiling patience every wrong I'll bear, 
While ye relume me with your nightly aid ! 



( 7 ) 



SONNET V. 



ON ECHO AND SILENGE. 



oa. 20, 17&2, 

In eddying courfe when leaves began to fly, 
And Autumn in her lap the ftores to ftrew, 
As mid wild fcenes I chanc'd the mufe to woo 
Thro' glens untrod, and woods thatfrown'don high,. 

Two deeping nymphs, with wonder mute I fpy: — 
And lo! (lie's gone — In robe of dark-green hue 
'Twas Echo from her lifter Silence flew : 
For quick the hunter's horn refounded to the fky. 

In lhade affrighted Silence melts away. 

Not fo her fitter. Hark 1 For onward ftill 
With far-heard ftep the takes her liftening way, 

Bounding from rock to rock, and hill to hill : 
Ah! mark the merry maid, in mockful play, 
With thoufand mimic tones the laughing foreft fill I 



( 8 ) 

SONNET VI. 

.0 AUTUMN, NEAR HER DEPARTURE. 



0#. 30, 1782. 

Thou maid of gentle light, thy ftraw-wove veft, 
And ruflet cincture; thy loofe pale-ting'd hair y 
Thy melancholy voice, and languid air, 
As if fhut up within that penfive breaft 

Some ne'er-to-be-divulged grief was preft; 

Thy looks relign'd, that fmiles of patience wear, 
While Winter's blafls thy fcatter'd treffes tear, 
Thee, Autumn, with divineft charms have bleft ! 

Let blooming Spring with gaudy hopes delight, 
That dazzling Summer lhall of her be born ; 
Let Summer blaze 3 and Winter's ftormy train 

Breathe awful mutic in the ear of Night ; 
Thee will I court, fweet dying maid forlorn, 
And from thy glance will catch th' infpired ftrain. 



( 9 ) 

SONNET II. 

ON RETURNING TO *#*****## > 

NOV. 5, 1782. 



O my lov'd lyre, thou cbeerer of my days ! 
How ill can I the rude misfortune bear, 
That, by the damps of this Boeotian air, 
Thy firings untun'd no more the fong will raife ! 

The fbout of riot, and th' indecent phrafe, 
The mad fool's bravo to th' aflaults of care, 
Ah ! how will thefe affail my palled ear, 
Now thou haft ceas'd the magic of thy lays! 

O thou, the queen of this my tunelefs fhell, 
O leave not vacant thus my drooping bread, 
But touch me, heav'nly mufe, with wonted fire ! 

So mall my days within my lonely cell 

Fleet quick away, in fearch of wifdom bleft, 
Heedlefs of Comus, and his noify choir. 



( 10 ) 



SONNET VIII. 



TO A LAI>Y IN ILLNESS. 



Feb. 15, 1782. 

New to the world, when all was fairy ground, 
And fhapes romantic fwara before my light, 
Thy beauty caught my foul, and tints as bright, 
And fair as Fancy's dreams, in thee I found : 

In cold experience when my hopes were drown'd ; 
And life's dark clouds o'er-veil'd in mills of night 
The forms, that wont to fill me with delight, 
Thy view again difpell'd the darknefs round. 

Shall I forget thee, when the pallid cheek, 

The lighing voice, wan look, and plaintive air. 
No more the rofeate hue of health befpeak ? 

Shall I negle6t thee as no longer fair? 
No, lovely maid ! If in my heart I feek, 
Thy beauty deeply is engraven there. 



( 11 ) 



SONNET IX. 



TO EVENING. 

July 26, 1783, 

Sweet Eve, of fofteft voice, and gentleftbeam, 
Say, fince the penlive (trains thou once didft hear 
Of him *, the Bard fublime of Aran's ftream, 
Will aught befide delight thy nicer ear ? 

Me wilt thou give to praife thy fhadowy gleam ; 
Thy fragrant breath, and dying murmurs dear; 
The mifts, that o'er thee from thy vallies fleam, 
And elfin (hapes, that round thy car appear; 

The mufic, that attends thy ftatej the bell 
Of diftant fold ; the gently-warbling wind, 
And watch-dog's hollow voice from cottag'd dell? 

For thefe to pureft pleafure wake the mind ; 
Lull each tumultuous paffion to its cell ; 
And leave foft foothing images behind. 

* Collins. See his Ode to Evening. 



( 12 ) 



SONNET X, 



WRITTEN ON THE APPROACH OF THE COLB 
WEATHER, OCT. 9. 17^3. 



One morn, what time the fickle 'gan to play, 
The eaftern gates of Heav'n were open laid, 
When forth the rofy hours did lead a maid, 
From her fweet eyes who (lied a foften'd ray : 

Bluihing and fair (lie was; and from the braid 
Of her gold locks (he (hook forth perfumes gay: 
Yet languid look'd, and indolently ftray'd 
Awhile, to watch the harveft borne away. 

But now with finews brac'd, and afpecl: hale, 
With buikin'd legs, and quiver crofs her flung, 
With hounds and horn the feeks the wood and vale, 

And Echo liftens to her foreft fong : 
Ac eve, the flies to hear her poet's tale, 
And "Autumn's" name refounds his (hades among. 



( 13 ) 



SONNET XI. 

ON HUNTING. 

Oa. 20, 1783. 

October, hail to thy melodious morn ! 

Thy gale bears mufic on its fragrant wings : 
Hark! to the wind the hound his rapture flings, 
And the glad huntfman founds his cheerful horn : 

The poor hare rues the day that the was born ; 
Tidings of death to her the chorus brings, 
For the vale echoes, and the foreft rings, 
And faft behind the hunter-band are borne. 

Onward they come: o'er every barrier fly; 

Pour down the hill) and fkim along the plain; 
Then up the fteep again are io% on high; 

Nor fear can flop, nor precipice reftrain: 
For courage, vigorous health, and jollity, 
And manly firength by exercife they gain. 



( 14 ) 



SONNET XII. 



To Miss Milles *. 



Jug. 4, 1784. 

Sweet Is the gleam of morn j and fweet on high 
The wandering moon j with fweets all Nature bleft: 
But mod the Virgin's beauty ftrikes the breaft j 
The tender voice, white neck, and fall black eye 

Drowfily-fweet, like Sol thro' clouds ; the dye, 
That paints the cheek, by dark-brown locks careftj 
The (lender form, that grace and eafe inveft, 
Yet fhrinking from the fight with modeftyj 

The manners form'd to fhine in courts; yet meek, 
And pleas'd with all, and wifhing all to pleafe, 
Enrapture : but when join'd in one they fpeak, 

The Bard with joys unutterable feize : 

Yet fuch he fear'd but in his dreams to feek, 
Till Mary bleft his gaze with living charms likethefe. 

* Now Lady Sondes. 



( 15 ) 



SONNET XIII. 



WRITTEN AT WO0TT0N, IN KENT. 



Jug. 14, 1784. 

O ye, the fcenes, that nnrs'd my childhood fweet, 
Tho' many a mark to Time's rude fickle bow, 
Which once I rear'd; and tho' the fervid vow 
No more to yon fall'n bench mail draw my feet ; 

Nor the green hedge, beneath whofe dark retreat 
For boyifh frolics oft I twin'd the bough, 
Remain: Yet in each tree, whofe fhadowy brow 
Spreads o'er the lawn, an ancient friend I greet! 

Fancy has trick'd thy hill, and wood, and vale 
With fairy fh apes ; and from each fhrub, and flower; 
Each found,the woodman's r>roke,the threlher's flail, 

And of the kennel'd hounds the loud uproar, 
My tearful fmiles pall friends, or plea fares, hail, 
Which all my infant ecftafies reftore. 



( 16 ) 



Ex LUCRET. Lib. iv. V.5J6. 

Q,um bene cum videas, rationem reddere poffis 
Tute tibi, atq; aliis, quo pacto per loca fola 
Saxa pareis formas verborum ex ordine reddant, 
Palanteis comites cum monies inter opacos 
Quaerimus, et magna difperfos voce ciemus. 
Sex etiam, ant feptem loca vidi reddere voces, 
Unam cum jaceres ; ita colles collibus ipfis 
Verba repulfantes iterabant dicta referre. 
Haec loca capripedes Satyros, Nymphafq; tenere 
Finitimi flngunt; & Faunos efTe loquunturj 
Quorum no&ivago ftrepitu, ludoq ; jocanti 
Affirmant volgo taciturna filentia rumpij 
Chordarumqj fonos fieri; dulceifq; querelas, 
Tibia quas fundit digitis pulfata canentum : 
Et genus agricoliim late fentifcere, cum Pan 
Pinea femiferi capitis velamina quarTans, 
Unco fsepe labro calamos percurrit hianteis; 
Fiftula fylveftrem ne ceffet fundere mufam. 



( 17 ) 

SONNET XIV. 
From LUCRETIUS, B. iv. V 577. 

CONCERNING ECHOES. 

Sep. 5, 1784. 

Wand'ring amid deep woods, and mountains dark, 
Wilder'd by night, my comrades loft to guide, 
Oft thro' the void I've rais'd my voice ; and hark ! 
The rocks with twenty mimic tones replied. 

Within thofe facred haunts, 'tis faid, abide 

Fauns, Nymphs, and Satyrs, who delight to mark, 
And mock each lonely found: but ere the lark 
Wakes her thrill note, to fecret cells they glide. 

Night-wandering noifes, revelry, and joke 
Difturb the air, 'tis faid by ruftics round, 
Who flart to hear its folemn filence broke, 

And warbling firings, and plaintive pipes to found : 
And oft they hear, when Pan his reed hath woke, 
Hills, vales, and woods, and glens the harmony 
rebound. 



< 18 ) 



SONNET XV 



WRITTEN AT WOOTTQN, IN KENT. 



Aug. 10, 1784. 

Ye fcenes, my melancholy foul that fill, 

Where Nature's voice no crowds tumultuous drown, 
And,but thro' breaks of trees, the lawn that crown, 
The paths of men are feenj and farther Hill, 

Scarce peeps the city-fpire o'er many an hill ! 

Your green retreats, lone walks, and fhadows brown, 
While fheep feed round beneath the branches' 

frown, 
Shall calm my mind, and holy thoughts inflil. 

What tho' with paflion oft my trembling frame 
Each real, and each fancied wrong inflame, 
Wand'ring alone I here my thoughts reclaim : 

Refentment finks, Difguft within me dies; 
And Charity, and meek Forgivenefs rife, 
And melt my foul, and overflow mine eyes. 



( 19 ) 
SONNET XVI. 

UPON AN TNVITATION FROM A LADY TO WALK 
ON THE SEA SHORE. 1785. 



Nymphs of the Sea, who by the Moon at night, 
Are wont, when fcarcely breathes the whifp'rins 

gale, 
To dance upon its level furface, hail! 
To-morrow with your fports I feaft my fightj 

Play in your freilieft breezes, and requite 

Your mufic with my long, which fhall not fail 
Along your murm'ring waters to prevail, 
And make your cliffs re-echo with delight. 

For fhe, a nymph divine, to whom ye gave 
To know your inmoft myft'ries, and to view, 
While the broad lightning plays upon the wave, 
Your choir their mod tremendous rites purfue. 

E'en the will lead me to each hollow cave, 
And ope each magic of your azure crew. 

C2 



( 20 ) 



SONNET XVII. 



WRITTEN NOV. 30, 1784. 



This thy laft day, dark month! to me is dear, 
For this firft faw my infant eyes unbound. 
Now two-and-twenty years have haften'd round, 
Yet from the bud no ripen'd fruits appear : 

My fpirits, drooping at the thought, to cheer, 
By my fond friends the jovial bowl is crown'd, 
While fad I lit, my eyes upon the ground, 
And fcarce refrain to drop the filent tear. 

Yet, O beloved Mufe ! if in me glow 

Ambition for falfe fame, the thirll abate ! 

Teach me, for fields and flocks, mankind to know, 

And ope my eyes to all that's truly great," 

To view the world unmafk'd, on me beftow ; 
And knaves and fools to fcorn, undazzled by their 
ftate! 



( 21 ) 



SONNET XVIII. 



WRITTEN AT WOOTTON IN KENT. 



While I re-wander o'er this wood-crown'd fteep, 
Yon fheep-clad lawn, and this fecluded dell. 
Yon Manfion, and yon holy Tower, that peep 
From the thick trees, where in their filent cell 

The hallow'd relics of my fathers lleep, 
I ftrive in vain the tumults to repel 
That force mine eyes with fad regret to weep, 
Since my fweet childhood's loft delights they tell. 

Here my lov'd Parent pafs'd his happy days 
In rural peace, with every Virtue warrn d, 
While the wide country round, that rung his praife, 

His fenfe directed, and his goodnefs charm'd : 
But I, alas, to genuine pleafures blind, 
Toft on the world's wide waves, no qniet find ! 



, 



( 22 ) 



SONNET XIX. 

OX MOOR-PARK, NEAR FARNHAM, SURRY, FORMERLY 

THE SEAT 0» SIR WM. TEMPLE, 

WHOSE HEART WAS BURIED IN THE GARDEN THERE. 

To yonder narrow vale, whofe high-flop'd fides 
Are hung with airy Oaks, and umbrage deep, 
Where thro' thick fhades the lulling waters creep, 
And no vile noife the munng mind derides, 
But Silence with calm Solitude abides, 

Temple with joy retir'd, that he might keep 
A courfe of quiet days, and nightly fleep 
Beneath the covering wings of heavenly guides, 
Virtue and Peace. — Here he in fweet repofe 

Sigh'd his laft breath. — Here Swift in youth, re- 

clin'd, 
Pafs'd his fmooth days! O had he longer chofe 
Retreats fo pure, perchance his nicer mind, 

(That the World's wildering follies, and its woes 
To madnefs ihook,) had ne'er with forrows pin'dt 



( 23 ) 



SONNET XX. 



THE WINDS. 



Aug. 23, 1784. 

Sublime the pleafure, meditating fong, 
Lull'd by the piping of the winds to lie, 
While ever and anon collecting, fly 
The choir ftill fwelling as they hafte along, 

And (hake with full ZEolian notes the iky: 

A paufe enfuesj the Sprites, that lead the throng, 
Recall their force, and firft begin to figh, 
Then howls the gathering rtream the rocking 
domes among. 

Mcthinks I hear the ihrieking Spirits oft 
Groan in the blaft, and flying tempefts lead, 
While ibme aerial beings fighing foft 

Round once-lov'd Maids their guardian withes plead : 
Spirits of Torment thrilly fpeak aloft, 
And warn the wretch, who rolls in guilt, to heed I 



( 21 ) 
SONNET XXL 

TO THE 
REV. COOPER WILLYAMS, A.M.* 



Friend of my early childhood, fince the wane 
Of the declining year no more invites 
To balk abroad in air, while falling rain, 
And the cold blaft, the wand'ring footftep frights 

From miry pathways, and from field-delights ; 
In this old Manfion, where the pi&ur'd pane 
With pomp of ages paft enchants our fights, 
Here let the blazing hearth our hours detain ! 

Round the glad board while wine, infpiring wine- 
Liberal not lavifti, aids the unbending mind, 
Let my wild gloomy fancy, joy divine 

In the mix'd funfliine of thy humour find! 
For worldly florms, and every eddying blaft 
But bid us to old friendfhips cling more fafL 

* Now reftor of Kingfton, and Stourmouth in Kent. 



( 25 ) 



SONNET XXII. 



AN EVENING IN MAY. 



Ye glittering Stars of Heav'n's blue concave. Hail? 

Ye ancient Oaks, that lift your branches high 

In the dim twilight of the azure fky, 

Beneath whofe arms I hear the Nightingale 
Pour out her liquid notes acrofs the Vale 3 

While mates from every half-leaFd covert nigh 

In exquifitely varied notes reply! 

Thou faded hill, where bleating Lambs bewail 
Their mothers loft ! thou hedge, yet dimly feeo, 

That fkirt'ft the Meadow, whence the fchreel-owl 
cries ! 

Ye glancing lights, that oft by fits, between 
The opening branches, from the village rife ! 

Hail, foul-compofing fcenes, and harmonies^ 

That raife the foul to heavenly ecftafies! 



< 



( 26 > 



SONNET XXIII. 



OCTOBER. 



Od. 13, 1784. 

O lov'd October! Hill my vacant day 
As thou return' ft, in rural fweets (hall fly! 
Mid yellow fields; mid woods of tawny dye, 
Whofe fragrant leaves about my pathway play; 

By ruffet hedges -, all thy morns I'll ftray : 
And round the cheerful fire in converfe high 
With choicer! fpirits meet, when o'er the iky 
Soft focial Evening draws her mantle grey. 

Nor will we ceafe, till Midnight's reign profound, 
The fweet communion of the fleeting hour, 
While blafts that yet but weakly whittle round, 

Urge to enjoy the moment in our power, 
Warninj of winter-days in tumult drown'd, 
Far frc n the quiet of the rural bower. 



( V ) 



SONNET XXIV. 



No more by cold Philofophy confined ; 
By fearful models now no more depreftj 
I give full range to my erratic mind, 
And with wild virions foothe my beating bread X 

Hail, thou lov'd feafon, when the hollow wind 
Strips the torn foreft of its golden veft j 
Shrieks in the echoing domes, and frights the hind., 
Who lees fad fpirits thro' his broken reft ! 

But while the rain defcends, and while the itorm 
Burfts in loud eddies thro' the fobbing grove, 
Spirits before my view of heavenly form, 

And fcenes of wondrous beauty feem to rove ! 
Sweet Infpiration's voice my Fancy hears ^ 
And verfe immortal feems to meet my ears ! 



( 28 ) 



SONNET XXV. 



Ah me ! vain wifh ! the virion cannot laft 5 

And fad reality muft undeceive ! 

The painted fhapes of Fiction's loom are pafl; 

And Truth's dull hues with keener fadnefs grieve. 
Yet mall the Mufe a grace,, tho' mournful, caft 

O'er the deep fighs ilie taught the brtaft to heave; 

Shall turn to mufic every wailing blaftj 

And light with fairy rays the darkfome eve. 
Weary of Hope ; by cold Neglect fubdued, 

No more tho' Fancy imp her eagle plumes, 

Yet (hall fhe foothe the melancholy mood. 
And throw a fmile on Difappointment's glooms ! 
Soft are the woes, with which the lyric firing, 
Unheard by mortals, makes the foreft ring. 



( 29 ) 



SONNET XXVI. 

TO THE MOON. 
FROM THE STORY OF MARY DE-CLIFFORD. 

O thou fair Moon, that o'er thefe fairy hills 
Cafteft thy filver radiance, while the dew- 
On every blade her pearly drops diflils, 
And all delighted feed the fleecy crew ! 

Sure heavenly fpirits often love to hail 

Thy rifing rays, and haunt thy lhadowy light, 
And, frequent as thou ftoop'ft beneath the veil 
Of yonder clouds, repeat the myftic rite! 

At fuch an hour as this, methinks I hear 
Aerial voices whifper to mine ear, 
And thrill with inexpreflive joy my frame ! 

"With thee, Sweet Beam, oh ! ever mayft thou bring 
Such lovely peace, fuch joy without a fling, 
And lift my foul to fo divine a flame! 



( 30 ) 



SONNET XXVII. 



ON A STORM. 



FROM THE SAME. 



Loud blows the wind ; the whittling woods among 
Whirl the fall'n leaves, and in the troubled Iky 
Quick and portentous drive the clouds along, 
While o'er the grafs the hurried breezes figfe : 

Anon, the fearful moment part, the fun 

Breaks through the darknefs 5 and the brightened 

ftreams, 
Eoaring no more, in filent fplendor run, 
While the white fleeple glitters in his beams i 

Again the gloom collects, a louder groan 

Shakes all the groves, and down defcends the rain ; 
And ftorms and funmine mark by fits the day. 

Thus me by turns, oft penlive and alone, 

The paffions rule ! O who {hall foothe the pain 
Beneath whofe threats my youthful hopes decay ? 



< 31 ) 



SONNET XXVIII. 



THE WANDERER. 



FROM THE SAME. 



Cross thefe lone downs th' unhappy wanderer ftrays. 
Views the feas fpread, and hears the billows roar; 
While no kind friend his moody footfteps flays, 
Or feeks his bofom's quiet to reftore. 

Perchance, O Stranger, fhould'ft thou find thefe lays, 
Shed tears of pity as thou read'ft them o'er: 
For dark and gloomy pafs his tedious days, 
While years of loft delight his thoughts deplore. 

She, heavenly angel — (ah ! in vain the thought 
Thefe myftic lines will ever meet her eyes — ) 

Sees the wing'd moments fpeed with rapture fraught, 
And loft in flattery, dreams not of his fighsj 
Yet ihe perchance will drop a precious tear, 
When calm at length he refts upon his bier. 



( 32 ) 



SONNET XXIX. 

SUPPOSED TO BE WRITTEN BY WOODVI&LE, AT 
HIS CASTLE OF GRAFTON. 

FROM THE SAME. 

Ye mould'ring towers, thefe waters deep furround, 
That, age fucceeding age, the foreft-fhades 
Of yon romantic wilds have proudly crown'd ! 
The voice of Revelry no more invades 

Your dreary courts ; nor yet with tuneful found 
Do royal Edwards * woo ih' Aonian maids 
To melt the Fair, who on their fuit have frown'd: 
But, fhook by Time and Fale, your glory fades. 

No more (hall Beauty with her winning eyes 
Brighten your halls, and o'er your feafrs prefidej 
But fad and lonely, while your mafter flies 

O'er foreign lands his forrows to divide ; 

Silence fhall reign along your chearlefs walls, 
Save when difturb'd by nightly fpirits' calls. 

* Alluding to Edward the Fourth's courtfhip of Elizabeth 
Woodville, at that place. 



( 33 ) 



SONNET XXX. 



ON MUTUAL LOVE, 



FROM THE SAME. 



Oh Love, requited Love, how fine thy thrills, 
That (hake the trembling frame with ecftafyj 
E'en every vein celefiial pleafure fills, 
And inexprefiive blifs is in each figh; 

Jn the tranc'd ear aerial mufic trills, 

Fairies enchanted radiance round fupply, 

Nectar divine the magic cup difiils, 

And heavenly figures dance before the eye : 

The dear adored Beauty, who in tears 

Seen thro' her fmiles, has charm'd the Lover's woes, 

An Angel not of earthly mould appears, 

And fpreads enchantment wherefoe'er me goes. 
Oh Heav'n, kind Heav'n, that joy like this 
would laft ! 

But Blifs is not for earth; clouds rife, the virion's pafL 



( 34 ) 



SONNET XXXI. 
on mary's tender looks. 

FROM THE SAME. 

Beam not on me — thofe heavenly looks, fweetmaid. 
Beam not on me, left loft in blifs I die! — 
Still as that angel-figure I furvey'd 
Down the glad dance in graceful motion fly; 

Thofe flowing ringlets on thy neck difplay'd j 
That lovely bofom heave the trembling fighj 
Thofe twinkling feet, that 'neath thy garments 

play'd, 
Celeftial beauty met my raptur'd eye. 

But oh ! thofe tender glances pierce my foul 
With melting pleafures too intenfe to bearj 

In vain I would my burfting tears controul, 
And calm the tremblings that my bofom tear. 
— Oh, fweeteft Mary, fpare the liquid fire, 
Thofe hallow'd glances dart, or I expire I 



( 35 ) 



SONNET XXXIL 

<SY MARY, GN A FUTURE STATE. 
FROM THE SAME. 

When this fad fpirit quits its woe-worn frame, 

And flies releas'd to yonder ftarry fphere, 
O ne'er may it forget its former flame, 

But ftill the friends it lov'd on earth be dear! 
Then thou, thou idol of my heart, whofe name 

My trembling lips pronounce but with a tear, 
Wilt firft and moft its guardian withes claim, 

And thee its ceafelefs care will hover near ! 
O thoUj who only can ft my bofom warm, 

Think not a felfifh paffion fills my heart; 
For if fome happier maid of fairer form 

More joy can to thy focial hours impart, 
O let me but go hence, and watch above 
Thy earthly blifs with pure feraphic love ! 



D 2 



( 36 ) 



SONNET XXXIII. 



FROM A NOVEL, 1798. 



Along the lone wood fhrieks the hollow blaftj 
And quick the doubling mifts obfcure the day: 
Where the voice echoes, or the windows caft 
Their diftant glancing lights, I feek my way : 

Before me, thick and fheely vapours fpread, 
Seem, like a lake, to level all the vale; 
"While drives the drizzling fog, and o'er my head 
The bending clouds in pillowy darknefs fail. 

Thefe are the fcenes, in which, howe'er I rove 
In doubtful paths, my fancy loves to rife ! 
Ideal buildings people every grove, 

And fairy forefts bound th' approaching fkies ! 
Clad in the grey obfcurity, I view 
More beauteous fcenes than Nature ever knew! 



( 37 



SONNET XXXIV. 

FROM A NOVEL, 17Q8. 

Behold thy triumphs, Time ! what filence reigns 

Along thefe lofty and majeftic walls ; 

Ah! where are regal Sidney's pompous trains*? 

Where Philip's tuneful lyre, whofe dying falls 
Could melt the yielding nymphs, and love-nck 
fwains f ? 

Ah ! where th' undaunted figure, that appals 

E'en heroes ? Where the lute, that on the plains 

The bending trees J round Sachariffa calls ? 
And are they fled ? Their day's for ever part I 

Heroes and poets moulder in the earth ! 

No found is heard, but of the wailing blaft, 
Through the lone rooms, where echoed crowded 
Mirth ! 

Yet on their 'femblance Melancholy pores, 

And all the faded fplendour foon reftores. 

* Sir Henry Sidney, Lord Prefident of the Marches, who 
kept his court at Ludlow Caftle. 
■f- Sir Philip Sidney's Arcadia. 
J Alluding to Waller's lines, written at Penfhurft, 



{ 38 ) 



SONNET XXXY.. 



3FE0M A NOVEL, 1798. 



O what is wealth, in pride of heart, he faid, 
Compar'd with you, ye treafures of the mind? 
O what the tinfel toys, in which array' d, 
The rich man ftrives the eye of Senfe to blind ?^ 

In thefe refreshing lawns, this haunted made, 
How oft has Fancy fplendid forms defign'd ; 
Whofe gleams before th' enraptur'd light difplay'd^ 
Would leave the glare of Eaftcrn Kings behind ! 

Can Wealth, the head to form, the heart to feel, 
The foul, that lifts the man to Heaven, beftow ? 
The power, from Grief, Scorn, Malice, to appeal, 

And lofe, in dreams of blifs, Revenge's blow ? — 
No fears then, Poverty, can'fl thou infpire, 
Give but the vigorous head,, the foul entire ! 



( 3 9 ) 



SONNET XXXVI. 



FROM A NOViL, l/< 



Where o'er the fea Night's blacker! fhadows form^ 
And on the founding more the furges crowd, 
The flafli, that ifTues from the parting cloud, 
Gleams but to (hew the horrors of the norm : 

Deeper the ihades condenfe : the troubled wave 
With louder thunder rolls 5 then, as again 
Breaks a new flam acrofs the fearful main, 
With gather'd force the tempelt feems to rave. 

Tis thus to me the momentary ray 

Of tender Hope, that fprings within my bread, 
Appears in gloomier colours to betray 

The group of daemons that my path infeft ! 

— O rather wrap this heart, confum'd with care, 
E'en in th' impervious (hades of dark defpair! 



; - - ■ — __.. 



( 40 ) 



SONNET XXXVII. 



FROM A NOVEL, 1798. 



Bbeak, foolifh heart: nor let thy woes be known I 
Ye tears, that down my pallid cheeks diftream, 
Be facred, nor betray ray fecret moan ! 
Idol, to whom my lips in every dream 

Will mutter uncontroul'd their fervid vows, 
O cruel, come not thou my flumbers near, 
Left at fuch facred hours, as thefe, thou hear, 
What love on thee my babbling tongue beftows ! 

No: let the torrents of my fwollen eyes 
Be loft unnotic'd in this lonely flood ! 
Away, ye murmurs, and ye burfting fighs, 

Mix with the blafts of this untrodden wood ! 
Thus Peace fhall gradual come to my relief} 
And Death record the patience of my grief. 



( 41 > 



SONNET XXXVIII. 

WRITTEN IN THE CHURCH-YARD OF ORLETON. 
FROM A NOVEL, lf98. 

Ye, who beneath thefe mouldering heaps have found 
Reft from the forrows of humanity ! 
I come to keep my vigils on the ground, 
Where I, too, foon at peace with you fhall be! 

Then when this throbbing heart has ceas'd to beat,. 
And lifelefs lies this weak and trembling frame 
Malice itfeif perchance may not repeat 
The cruel founds that now aflail my name. 

"With flowing tears upon the turf I bend, 
Beneath whofe fhade my athes will decay ; 

And thus, I cry, Frefh flowers, your perfumes lend 
To the lone gales, that o'er my grave will play ! 
And thus, ye breezes, in the folemn tone 
Of calm and heav'n-rapt melancholy, moan! 






( 42 ) 



SONNET XXXIX, 



FROM A NOVEL, 1802. 



O'er this blue wat'ry world, that fpreads around 
Far, far beyond the utmoft flretch of fight, 
How fweet the rippling furges' foothing found j 
Th' extended canopy of Heaven how bright ! 

Smooth as we go, while fcarce the keel divides 
The glafly furface, o'er my thrilling breaft 
How blifsful the ferenity that glides ! 
How, like the blaft, the paffions fink to reft f 

But will this brilliant fcene, my Euftace, laft ? 
Will no winds gather, and no clouds arife, 

This wide-invefted fplendor to o'ercaft ? 

Dark in the rear perchance the tempeft lies : 
But roar the bellowing ftorm, and rage the fea I 

Still that alone I dread, which feparates me from thee! 



( 43 ) 



SONNET XL. 



TKOM A NOVEL, 1802. 



Ye genial beams of this reviving Sun, 

Thro' whofe foft influence, o'er the fpreading 

meads 
Wand'ring I fee the vivid verdure run ! 
Primrofe and violet, whofe fragrance leads 
The early honours of the coming Spring ! 
• Sweet birds, whofe voice in the yet leaflefs grove 
I hear with doubtful tremulous prelude fing ! 
New hopes within my breaft begin to move ! 
And thou too, whofe lov'd image in my mind 

Holds the firft place j but in my ftormy brain 
Late with the reft was wreck'd, thy form I find 
With foftnefs (till more melting rife again ! 
Blifs here on earth e'en yet may be my lot j 
And in thine arms my griefs be all forgot ! 



( 44 ) 



SONNET XLL 



FROM A NOVEL, 1802. 



Dark o'er the iky has Night her fhadows fpread ! 
The lulling murmur of the hollow wind 
A drowfy raufic utters ; while the hind 
Lies in fvveet 11 umber on his lowly (lied. 

Me, whom to no fatiguing labours bred, 
The Morning faw, to gentler deeds affign'd, 
Chafe the fweet phantoms of an active mind, 
New fhapes Hill beckon from my reftlefs bed ! 

Perchance, while yet a thoufand beauteous forms 
Dance with enchanted radiance on my eye, 
My trembling bofom keener pleafure warms $ 

But think, O hind, of Sorrow's fharper figh ! 
Mine the mad pang, as mine the rapt delight r 
Thine the calm day, and undifturbed night! 



( 45 ) 



SONNET XLII. 



Black from the fky November fogs impend j 
And drizzling mifts enfhroud the hill and vale 5 
While o'er the darken'd downs my courfe I bend, 
And, pleas'd, below, the fhelter'd valley hail. 

With dangers compafs'd round, befet with foes, 
As on the daring fteed I feek my way, 
Methinks the fcowling tempeil fuits my woes, 
And foothes the cares, that on my bofom prey ! 

O lovely Mufe, 'tis thine with heavenly power 
To throw a charm on Sorrow's gloomier! hues j 
And, thro' the deepening clouds that round us lour, 

A piercing ray of golden light diffufe ! 
Ah; generous maid, amid the fable ftorm, 

Circled with brighter! beams flill mines thy fairy 
form! 



< 46 ) 



SONNET XLIIT. 



Thou rauft not be another's, O my home! 
Here, where my infant children's voices fhrill 
Thy fpacious halls with conflant echoes fill, 
From the rude ftranger facred be the dome ! 

And ihould fome upftart, with rafh heart prefume 
To fix beneath thy fhelter his abode, 
May nightly ghofts his guilty confcience goad, 
And fiends by day around his pathway roam! 

When all this numerous race, that fport around, 
Shall, with their parents, low in earth be laid, 
Still may their children's children here be found 

To own this pile, and fave yon growing made! 
" Here," may they fay, " our grandfires dwelt of 

" yore j 
" And here they nurs'd the Mufe's facred lore!" 



( 47 ) 



SONNET XLIV. 



With life's unceafing tempefls ftruggling ftill, 
Onward I go $ no interval of reft 
To calm the troubles of my beating bread! 
But thus it is, perchance, that I fulfil 

Th' allotted part, that is my Maker's will; 
And thus hereafter, when his high beheft 
Shall call on trembling mortals to atteft: 
Their labours here, fome mercy for the ill 

That I have done on earth I may obtain! 

Neglected, fcorn'd, traduc'd, with threats purfued 
Which boldeft minds have awed; yet all in vain: 

The Mufe's rites no fufferings have fubdued. 

From paths, her votaries haunt, I cannot fwervej 
Carelefs of gaining praife, if I deferve! 



m 



ODES. 



ODE I. 

To Miss Kenrick, on her departure. 

Jan. 25, 1/82, 

For many an hour of foft delight, 
Bais'd in my foul by thy fond fight} 
For many a fail on Pleafure's ftream, 
Still foften'd in my nightly dream, 
Thy memory fhall live enfhrin'd 
"Within the temple of my mind j 
And if we meet in worlds above, 
My foul to thee ftill grateful prove. 

Can I forget how I have hung 
Enamour'd on thy gentle tongue ? 
How, as (like Morning's orient jftreaks) 
Youth 'gan to open on thy cheeks, 



( *9 ) 

I've mark'd the melting languor fpread, 
That thy fweet eyes around have fhedj 
Have mark'd the dear unpractis'd figh, 
Within thy heaving bofom lie? 
With what emotion I have feen 
Thy artlefs fmile, thy tender mien ? 
Can I forget the raptur'd pains 
Thefe charms have caus'd within my veins ? 
No : for thefe joys beftow'd on me, 

May Heaven its bleffings fhed on thee I 
Heav'n knows, when we Ihall meet again : 

And dare I hope this limple (train 

Will in Futurity's lone hour, 

Recall me from Oblivion's power, 

And, as I e'er lhall think on thee, 

A moment turn thy thoughts on me. 

Farewell : May Woe, with entrance rude, 

Ne'er on thy gentle breaft intrude, 

But all thy tender minutes roll 

In love, and harmony of foul ! * 

* The f'jbjedt of this poem died not long afterwards in the 
flower of her youth. 



{ so ) 



ODE IL 



K3T0N BEGINNING THE STUDY OF THE LA"Vf. 

1783. 



Yes, Glory ! I have heard the found, 
That fhook the vale and hills around, 
Where all at eafe reclin'd I lay, 
With melting Poefy at play. 
Rous'd at thy call to fterner Law, 
To him my ling'ring fteps I draw. 
Yet muft I leave my native plain, 
No more to fee my love again ? 
What, though no more I all day long 
May liften to her am'rous fongj 
Tho' I no more, from morn to eve, 
Her fairy legends may believe j 
A backward glance I Hill may roll, 
To foothe the feelings of my foul ; 
And (till at times thy toils may ceafe, 
And thou tby captive may' ft releafe, 






( « ) 

Again in fairy paths to meet 
The nymph, that led his infant feet; 
To trace the verdure, as it fpreads 
Its stealing progrefs o'er the meads ; 
To mark the leaves begin to bud, 
And hear the birds awake the wood j 
And bufy rooks> with clamour loud, 
That round the reverend elm-trees crowd. 
To mark the Spring's foft genial cheer 
From trance awaken'd Nature rear, 
And all the face of things rejoise 
Kous'd by her enlivening voice : 
With her, in Summer's noontide heat, 
In fome deep made to take his feat, 
And there unfold with rapt regard 
The tale of fome enchanted Bard. 
Infpired Spencer then perchance 
Acrofs the lone retreat may glance, 
Heproach my poor affrighted maid, 
And tell her how (he him betray'd $ 
How fhe on him from childhood fmil'd, 
And thence to dwell with her beguil'd j 
How fhe his heavenly fong refin'd 
Too exquifite for grofs mankind ! 
E 2 



( 52 ) 

For he to winds, and waters fung, 

And Want aiTail'd his god-like tongue. 

Scar'd at the warning aim'd at me, 

I then once more mail yield to thee. 

But, Glory, thou wilt ftill allow 

To her to breathe my cafual vow : 

With her fometimes, at midnight hour, 

Amid the elemental roar, 

When Winter bids his winds arife, 

And fpirits howl along the fkies, 

To turn the page of heroes old, 

Of fairy Knights, and Barons bold, 

And many a foft bewitching maid, 

In fell enchanter's cattle laid : 

Then creep with thrilling fear to bed, 

Nor turn around the room my head, 

Left 'mid the folemn fhades of night, 

Their ghofts mould meet my fhuddering fight. 

If fuch indulgence thou wilt give, 
Then I with toilfome Law will live.* 

* The author's retaliations were vain*, he found that he 
could " live" but a very little while " with toilfome Law." — 
1806. 



( 53 ) 

ODE III. 
To Miss L, L , of I d. 

WRITTEN BY MOONLIGHT, JUNE 6, 17&3. 

By filver Cynthia's fhadowy gleam 
We drink of Infpiration's ftreamj 
A thoufand fairy fhapes we fee 
That with the penfive mood agree; 
Forms in a thoufand lights combin'd 
Fleet before the tranced mind -, 
And left we lefe the airy train, 
We paint them in the living ftrain. 

Soft maid, left like the pafting cloud, 
The fcenes that on my fancy crowd, 
When, by mild Cynthia's penfive ray, 
To feaft my thoughts on thee I ftray, 
Left thefe fo fwift mould pafs, my lyre 
Shall tell each thought thy charms infpire ! 
As in the pilgrimage of life, 
Befet with many a toil and ftrife, 



— - . 



C 54 ) 

The fteepy hill of Fame doth rile 
In hard afcent before my eyes, 
(Yet fuch as ne'er fhall me detain 
To haunt alone the lowly plain) 
Awhile my fpirits droop; but foon 
Thy form appears in beauty's noon :- 
" Be thou companion of my way," 
I cry, " and all my paths are gay ; 
<c For well I know thy foothing fmile 
ii The mighty labour can beguile." 

Thus as I fpeak, and watch the fhade^ 
My idolizing foul has made, 
Again, fweet nymph, in fancy's ear, 
Thy mild and fimple voice I hear ; 
Again I view, as thou doft fpeak, 
The blufli, that paints thy tender cheek, 
And thefe can more than toil requite ; 
O'er darker demons fhed their light : 
In vain the fiends that haunt my way, 
When thou art by, will watch their prey; 
Vain will be envy, firife, and fcorn, 
As fpectres in the ray of morn : 
Vainly, if thou wilt fmile, dear maid,. 
Shall hills oppofe, and foes invade ! 

Yet when my fancy fees thy form 
With beauty, truth, and foftnefs warm, 



( 55 ) 

How can I hope thy wondrous charms 
Will yield to blefs my ruder arms ? 
But, " dear pofferTor of my breaft," 
Sweet foother of my cares to reft, 
Ah! think a frown upon my joy 
Would all my fairy piles deftroy t 






( 56 ) 



ODE IV. 



TO SPRING, 



April 14, 1734. 

Hence, Winter, gloomy Pow'r! 
Beneath thine iron rod we groan too long; 

Nor vernal fight, nor fong, 
Hath yet awoke to foothe the lagging hour. 

Go, with thy loathed band, 
Where hills of ice and fnowy mountains rife, 

Whofe ftrength the fun defies : 
There, amid difmal caves and icy thrones, 

Difpenfe thine horrid frowns ; 
While ftorms, and hail, and wind for ever fill the land. 

Bat come, foft Spring ! no more delay 

To blefs us with thy genial fway I 

Thy beams have yet but faintly fhone, 

By ftorms and darknefs foon o'erblown j 

No foft 'ring warmth they yet have me& 

To wake the verdure of the mead; 



( 57 ) 

To ope the primrofe' wild perfume, 

Or rear to life the vi'let's bloom. 

Then come, fweet nymph, with fixed pacef 

The tyrant mail with fearful face 

Behold far off thy fteady beams, 

And bafte away his ragged teams. 

O come, thou Queen of gay delights, 

Tho' late, to blefs our longing fights I 

Flow'rs fliall fpring up beneath thy way,. 

And earth, and air, and feas be gay. 

Adown the mountain's woody fide 

The tumbling torrent fhall fubfide; 

And the whittling wind no more 

Thro' the caftle's turrets roar; 

But rills (hall lulling mufic keep, 

And fpires, and battlements (hall peep 

With glittering hue, amid the fhade; 
While fhepherds' pipes (hall from the glade 
Echo fweet ; and virgins gay, 

. With frefh-bloom'd cheeks, to hear them play^ 
Shall iffue from the caftle's bounds, 
And dance to thee their merry rounds. 
On fhadowy greens to thee the Fays 
Shall there a moon-light altar raifej 
And there, by Cynthia's paly ray, 
Will I to thee my orgies pay I— 



( 58 ) 

Meads fhall fmile ; the frifking flock 
Shall bleat from valley, and from rocky 
And oft at fold their tinkling bell 
Shall wake the Poet's penfive fhell j 
To thee by twilight he fhall fing, 
Sooth'd by the air foft-murmuring. 
At morn, from furrow'd lands afar, 
Plowmen's fongs fhall tend thy car y 
And the woodman's echoing ilroke, 
That too often hath awoke 
The genius of the deepen'd wood 
From the ftill fhades of his abode. 
But, within the fertile vale, 
Daified paftures ihall not fail, 
With flow'rets wild of ev'ry hue, 
To ope their bloflbms to thy view ; 
While the fteeple-bells fhall ring, 
And down the wave their echoes fling. 
Which, foften'd by the warbling wind, 
With ecftafies fhall fill the mind. 
In yonder panned meadow's bound, 
With hills, and wood, enclos'd around> 
My love and I will wildly ftray, 
To pick each flower, that drinks thy ray. 
May her enchanting form no fate, 
Like that unhappy maid's, await, 



( 5 9 ) 

Whom gloomy Dis by force convey 'd 
To his low region's difmal fhade ! 
For fhe, fad nymph, had only ftray'd 
To bafk amid thy fragrant blooms, 
And fill her lap with thy perfumes, 
When he, black God ! with grim delight. 
Bore the wild maid to endlefs night. 
Ah, no ! I never will profane 
With gloomy fears thy joyous reign ; 
But, while this youthful blood fhall fport 
Within my veins, I thee will court; 
The pleafures of thy train will join, 
And hail thy blooming nymphs divine j 
To them my tales of love repeat, 
And mark, how thy prolific heat 
On their foft cheeks bids blufhes rife, 
And (beds fweet languor o'er their eyes. 

If hoary locks my temples fhade, 
Ere in the peaceful grave I'm laid, 
Then may I haunt the rural hall, 
Round which the rooks, with clamorous calk 
To thee their early rites begin, 
Far from the peopled city's din; 
And wak'd by them, at dawning day, 
Watch how the buds their leaves difplay; 



1 



( 60 ) 

And footh'd by them, when Eve (hall come, 
Mark their thick flocks returning home ! 
Awhile contentious ftrife, and noife, 
And loud complaint, their reft deftroysj 
But by degrees the tumults clofe, 
The murmurers fink to calm repofe. 
While thus I watch them to their neft, 
Sooth'd by foft fympathy to reft, 
Sweet {lumbers o'er mine eyes will creep, 
And in mild dreams my fancy fteep. 

Thus, Spring, with thee I'll pafs my day, 
Thus foothe my evening hours away ; 
Thus, as I totter on life's brink, 
To my laft {lumbers foftly fink. 



( <S1 ) 



O D E V. 



Since Time at length has lull'd to reft 
The wild confufions of my breaft, 
And her lov'd image, at whofe fight 

My fenfes were in tumult toft, 
Can now appear more gently bright, 
And footh my foul to calm delight, 
My fancy fliall in dreams be loft, 
Of all thofe fairy pleafures o'er, 
"Which will return no more. 



II. 



How oft, amid th' Autumnal reign, 
I met my angel on the plain ! 

How oft we cheerly cios'd around 

The focial board, whan evening came ! 



( 62 ) 

Nor were her fweet attentions drown'd 
In mirth, and flattery's fyren found j 
But with kind looks me fed my flame j 
Nor my fad filence did reprove, 
But knew it rofe from love. 



III. 



How oft with kind, and patient, ear 

My faultering accents me did hear, 

Nor my ineloquence difdain'd! 

But while vain youths their tales preferr'd, 
And at her feet with eafe complain'd, 
By my rude converfe flill detaind, 
My incoherent vows (he heard j 

And while their fictions idly flow'd, 
Her fmiles on me beftow'd ! 



IV. 



Once, when fhe liften'd to my tongue, 
On her feiz'd hand I fondly hung, 
With quivering lip, and darting eye, 
And thoughts as wild as maniacs feel) 



( 63 ) 

And bad her mark the lightnings fly, 
That play'd about the northern iky : 
When fhe > as tears adown did fteal, 
Shed on my foul foft Pity's balm, 
And bad its waves be calm. 



V. 



But when relentlefs Time did part 
f From me the charmer of my heart ; 
Then have I fought the lonely glade, 
On her to feed my penfive mind : 
There did I ftill behold the maid, 
And mutter to her hallow'd fliade : 
Or if the focial crew I join'd, 

Nor jocund bowl, nor feftive dance, 
Could wake me from my trance. 

VI. 

Twas where wild Nature's fertile powers 
Scatter her raoft luxuriant fhowers j 

Where hills, deep -clad with {hadowy wood, 
Compafs green meads, and vallies round> 



( 64 ) 

My beauteous angel's dwelling flood 5 
And Autumn fhed her yellow flood 
Of light upon th' enchanted ground ; 
Whofe ruflet tints, and dying gleams 
Still fed my fairy dreams. 

VII. 

Sithence, whene'er it meets my fight, 
There feems a vifionary light 

Thrown round each object of the place : 

In every wind, in every walk, 
A vanifh'd pleafure I retrace, 
A long-loft miftrefs I embrace, 

And with her yet-lov'd fhadow talk : 
And Autumn s gleams my mem'ry frill 
With penfive raptures fill. 



( GS £ 



O D E VL 



WRITTEN DURING THE CONFINEMENT OF A LONG 
INDISPOSITION IN LONDON, 1785. 



I, 



O ! when fhai 1 I revifit you, 

Sweet fields, anu waving trees ? 
O ! when again, ye forefts, view 
Your fhades of every varied hue, 
That whifper to the breeze ? 

IL 

O when again in alleys green, 

Beneath umbrageous boughs. 
Wander in muling mood unfeen, 
Or to my heart's enchanting queen 
Securely breathe my vows ? 



F 



( 66 ) 



in. 

O ! when again beneath the gloom 

Of fpreading oaks recline, 
While paffing gales that kifs each bloom, 
And bear its fragrance on their plume- 

.Exhale an air divine •? 

IV. 

Here, where new pleafures fhould appeafe 

My agonizing pains, 
I view no meads $ I tafte no breeze, 
But what is loaded with difeafe j 

I hear no woodland ftrains ! 



Not foft on me thro' chequer'd glades 

The rays of Phoebus fall j 
I find no interpofing ftiades, 
But heat intenfe my frame invades, 

Reflected from the wall. 



( $7 ) 



VI. 

Yet if deep fhadcs and brighter ikies, 

Sweet fongs and fragrant air, 
Were all, for which my bofom fighsj 
The fmoke and noife that round me rife, 
With patience I could bear. 

VII. 

But, ah ! I can endure no more 

To drag my days apart 
From Her, whofe form my eyes adore, 
From Her, who can alone reftore 

The raptures of my heart. 



F 2 



ODE VII. 



WElTTEN AT EWSHOT IN HAMPSHIRE, IN TEE 
AUTUMN OF 1784. 



I. 

Nueses of Thought, ye Woody Shades, 
Ye leaf-ftrown paths of ruffe t glades, 
Thro' which, at diftant openings view'd, 

Dim heaths of purple crofs my fight, 
Ye will indulge my penfive mood, 
And let my lovefick fancy brood 

On thofe fweet hours of pall delight, 
Which, to the eye of Memory, feeno 
Like an Elyfian dream ! 

II. 

'Twas Auguft : where I pad along, 
Echoed around the harveft fong: 



( 6g y 

The Hoping hills, that fmil'd with green; 

Glittering with rills, the cottag'd vales. 
Thro' which, amid a rural fcene 
Of corn and mead, two cliffs between, 

Peep'd the blue ocean, fpread with fails, 
All, like enchantment, feem'd to rife, 
Before my raviuVd eyes. 

III. 

While, as by tranfient gleams of light, 
In front the turrets rofe to fight, 
Where fhe my eager wifhes fought, 

Enjoy 'd the freQi'ning ocean's air, 
A fudden tumult feiz'd my thought; 
My cheek a fudden palenefs caught; 
And, as the hallow'd fpot was near, 
Beneath me funk my faultering feet, 
My trembling bofom beat. 

IV, 

I entered: but my mifty eyes 
Saw little, and I fpoke in %hs: 



( 70 ) 

Yet moft to her of all around, 

My voice in vain effay'd to fpeak$ 
Affrighted at its very found. 
Tears rifing o'er my fight I found, 

And burning blufties ftain my cheek i 
But oft a filent glance I ftole, 
That fpoke my inmoft foul. 



V. 

When waves fcarce murmurid on the more, 
And from afar the lulling oar 

Dafli'd gently on the glittering main, 

Beneath the noon-tide cliffs we ftray'dj 
Mov'd by the penfive fcene, in vain 
Then did I drive to hide my pain - } 

The flreaming tears my heart betray 'd^ 
But in her fwimming eyes arofe 
A balm for all my woes. 



VI. 



Again, by evening's fhadowy rays, 
Upon the twilight waves to gase 



( n ) 

We rov'd: awhile a glimmering light 

The cliffs with foft reflection beam'dj 
At once the thickeft fhades of night 
Shed their black veil on every fight; 

Strange fires acrofs the caflle ftream'd, 
Whofe walls more deeply frowning flood 
Upon the fable flood. 

VII. 

My colour fled, and tremors came 
O'er my fond foul, and fhook my frame ; 
My arm upbore her trembling feet; 

With love her chilly hand I prefs'dj 
Her fwimming eyes, that feem'd t' entreat 
Protection, grew in grief more fweet : 

I footh'd with fmiles her fluttering breaft, 
While thus to fancy fpoke her tears; 
" With thee I have no fears." 

VIII. 

We parted: Sighs my bofom fill'd, 
Yet on my frame her accents thrill'd, 



u. 



..* _.- 



C 7$ ) \ 

And half beguil'd the tears that flow'dj 

Night in her fableft mantle frown'dj 
My horfe's feet, that, as he trod, 
Echoed along the hollow road, 

Deepen'd the folemn filence round j 
Yet, in luxurious virions tranc'd, 
Too quickly I advanc'd. 

IX. 

Since do I pafs the lonely day 
Far from the focial circle gay, 

Where none may heed my altering pace, 

My abfent looks, my muttering tone: 
For tho' in every crowded place, 
By mufic's found, and beauty's face, 
Still mould I hear the voice alone > 
And fee alone the image fair, 
Of her, who was not there. 



Ye woods, upon whofe folitude 
I call, to nurfe my penfive mood, 



C 73 ) 

Witnefs, that fince I left the maid 

Who fills my heart, and haunts my fight | 
Alone I've fat beneath your (hade, 
Or 'mid your eddying foliage ftray'd, 
E'en till the melancholy light 

Of the pale moon's infpiring beams, 
Loft iiimy fancy's dreams. 



( 74 ) 



ODE VIII. 

MARCH. 
WRITTEN IN 1786. 

Now the doubling vapours fill 

The vale, and hover o'er the hill j 

The heath, that right againft the view 

Lifts it's Hope fide, is clad in bluej 

O'er the far-extended wood 

Deep and ftill the grey mifts brood j 

While by the hedge, and on the grafs^ 

We brufh the vapours as we pafs. 

Still is the air ; the leaves and herbs 

Not a fingle breath difturbs, 

Save that, by fits, the breeze's fighs 

In murmurs thro' the boughs arife. 

Thro' the dead calm that reigns around, 

Is heard diftin&ly every found : 

The rooks, that ftill from earlieft dawn 

With caw incefiant pafs the lawn ; 

Then quick repafs, with burden fill'dj 

Their annual airey to rebuild ; 



( 75 ) 

The plough, that fometimes fcreaksj — anon 

The fwain's loud laugh, that guides it onj 

The clapping gate, at which we fee, 

Slowly returning from the lea, 

The fower, with his empty fackj 

The woodman, laden at his back 

With roots, and broken flicks, and boughs^ 

That cuflom for his toil allows 3 

Or red-cloak'd houfewife of the cot, 

Who from the vill her flores has got 

To cheer her houfehold, when they leave 

The barn, or wood, or field, at eve ; 

Or truant boys, whofe cheerful voice 

Soon in the vale we hear rejoice j 

The horfes' fleps along the lane, 

Or the loud ring of loaded wainj 

Or from the public road afar 

The rattle of the fleeter car ; 

(While at eaclvpaufe from yonder vale 

We hear the cuckow tell her tale, 

Or gentle flock-dove pour her moan 

In deep and melancholy tone) 5 

The babbling hounds, whofe diflant cries 

Wak'd by the horn's loud melodies, 

Or fhrill-voic'd huntfman's echoing cheer, 

Die into mufic in the air ; 



C 7# ) 

The bleating flock from yonder, fteep, 
The dog that bays the ftraying fheep, 
And (hepherd's hallo from the hill, 
At which th' obedient dog is ftillj 
The village artifl's hafty ftrokej 
The flower flail ; the falling oak 
Tftat echoes from the quaking dell j 
The rapid whirl from cottage well j 
The cattle, lowing from the farm ; 
And thousands founds beiide, that charm? 
Now the wings of fllence bear 
Diftin6t along the listening air. 
Thus as the airy harp reclin'd 
Moves to the whifpers of the wind, 
And, in return, from all its firings 
With more melodious raufic rings 5 
The curious ear, in ecftafies, 
Vibrates to Nature's harmonies, 
And drives the rapture to repay 
By mimic echoes of her lay. 



( 77 ) 



ODE IX. 

ON AUTUMN. 
*ROIW THE STORY OF MARY DE-CLIFFORD, 1792. 

The heavenly gleams of Autumn mine, 
And touch the withering groves with gold $ 

To babbling hounds, and ftraying kine, 
The yellow fields their gates unfold. 

Chill morns, and evenings clofing foon, 
The fymptoms of the fading year, 

To me, now changing as the moon, 
Had been methought for ever dear ! 

But why this boding at my breaft, 

Of future and myfterious grief? 
Thefe fcenes could calm all pains to reft, 

But now they give me no relief. 



( 78 ) 

Twas here, e'en here, that I have heard 
The voice divine of angels fpeak, 

And heavenly vifitants preferr'd 
To me their airy thoughts to break ! 

But ah ! my moody fancy ftrays. 



C 79 ) 



O D E X. 



ON MORNING. 



fROM THE SAME. 



The morn, in dewy beauty bright, 
Opes to illume the fkirts of night, 
And deep behind the we.ftern wood, 
No more the half-pierc'd fhadows brood : 
Yet fcarce the foot of Labour's feen 
Trailing his path in deeper green, 
"While herds and flocks, uncall'd to gaze 
At early wanderer, quiet graze. 
O fcenes of peace, ye calm to reft 
Th' uneafy tremblings of my bread! 
Sprites, that, by midnight dark and lone, 
Haunted my tearful dreams, are flown : 
Sighing in concert with the blaft, 
Round the tall battlements they paftj 
While I in feverifh fancies toft, 
Seem'd in ftrange diftant countries loftj 



( » ) 

By friends abandon'd, while the cry 

Of favage nations bade me die. 

A heavenly youth arofe to fave 

The fuff'rer from an early grave": 

Yet fcarce the faviour feem'd to rife, 

Ere cruel murder cles'd his eyes. 

Such were the fancies of the night ; — 

Sweet Morn, thou putt' It them all to flight! 

And, in their ftead, a train I find 

Of foothing virions fill my mind ! 

Hours of my childhood, I renew 

Fancies of rapture, as I view 

Yon fhelter'd bench 5 and yonder lawn 

Oalls back a thoufand pleafures gone. 

But ah ! that wood, whofe tawny leaf, 

Tho' beauteous, bears the ihades of grief, 

Fills me with pains, I know not why, 

And every glance renews a figh. 

Thou fading year, does Fate ordain 

I ne'er mould view thy fpring again ? 

Yet why, foreboding future ill, 

My foul with vain difquiets fill ? 

Methinks more blifs is in my woe, 

Than all th' unmingled joys I e'er could kiiow, 



( 81 ) 



ODE XI. 

BY MARY. 

FROM THE SAME. 

I. 

How foft the breezes blow! 

How bright the face of heaven ! 
Yet what avails it to the woe 

Of never being forgiven ? 
Methinks the yellow lights, that fit 

Upon the fading grove, 
The peniive mourner would befit, 

Who wails her haplefs love ! 
Yet naught on earth can cure my care, 
If I another's days have clouded with defpair 

II. 

« But I, — alas ! could I 

Have caus'd the iufferer's grief, 
Who, did he for a moment figh, 
Could weep for his relief ? 
G 



( 32 ) 

thou, whofe heavenly tongue fo oft 
I've heard with rapt amaze, 

Whofe thoughts divine, and accents foft, 
Have charm'd my chiMith days! 

1 ne'er could think thy warier light 

In Mary's fimple form could ever find delight! 

Til. 

But ah ! my fears are vain. 

Yet in the thought I feel 

A pleafure mingled with the pain, 
That half my grief would heal. 
For fure it may not be too late, 

Since Angels guard him round j 
And, if with fuch a power kind Fate 

This little form has crown'd, 
Blefr. were my voice his pangs to calm, 
And in his bofom's ftorms thefe tears to pour their balml 



IV. 



Yet whither does he dray ? 

Perchance in woods alone 
He hears, throughout the mournful day, 

The bending foreft groan : 



( 83 ) 

Or on yon cliffs flupendous fteep 

His liftlefs limbs may throw, 
While loud upon the troubled deep 

The waters burft below. — 
Oh Heaven, the gentle youth defend, 
Left wild Defpair his fleps down the dread flood Ibould 
fend ! 

V. 

Perchance in glimmering glades 

The lonely Moon he wooes, 
Till, as its filver radiance fades, 

He, mid defcending dews, 
In difmal darknefs wanders on 

Thro' dreary paths unknown : 
In vain he prays for cheerful dawn, 

Unheard he pours his moan; 
While I, if I have caus'd his pain, 
Bid not this little voice call back his peace again. 

VI. 

But yet this childiih tongue 

Th' attention ne'er could raife 
Of him, whofe lyre divine has rung 

With heavenly angels' praife : 
G2 



( 84 ) 

Ne'er could this little form with fighs 

Fill that exalted heart. 
Nor could thefe inexpreflive eyes 

A paflion there impart.— 
Of flattery born, begone, ye Fears; 
For furely Mary's fhape is guiltlefs of his tears ! 

VII. 

Then hail, autumnal gleams, 

And foothe this heart to peace 1 
Your beauty to the mourner feems 

From tortures a releafe. 
Ye glittering fpires, and yellow woods, 

'Mid fcatter'd hamlets gayj 
And ye, ye calm and fpreading floods, 

That fparkle with the day, 
With you, in folitude be mine 
To tmrfe my mufing ioul with Fancy's dreams divine f 



.-* 



( 85 ) 



ODE XII. 



TO MARY. 



FROM THE SAME. 



Where art thou, Mary, pure as fair, 
And fragrant as the balmy air, 
That, palling, fteals upon its wing 
The varied perfumes of the Spring ? 
With tender bofom, white as mow; 
With auburn locks, that freely flow 
Upon thy marble neck ; with cheeks, 
On which the blulh of morning breaks; 
Eyes, in whofe pure and heavenly beams 
The radiance of enchantment feems ; 
A voice, whofe melting tones would ftill 
The madnefs of Revenge from ill; 
A form of fuch a graceful mould, 
We fcarce an earthly (hape behold ; 
A mind of fo divine a fire, 
As angels only could infpire? — 



( 86 ) 

Where art thou, Mary ? For the fod 
Is hallow'd, where thy feet have trod; 
And every leaf that's touch'd by thee, 
Is fan&ified, fweet maid, to me. 
Where doft thou lean thy penfive head ? 
Thy tears what tender tale can fhed ? 
Where doft thou ftretch thy fnowy arm, 
And with thy plaintive accents charm ! 
But hold ! that image through my frame 
Raiies a wild tempeftuous flame. 
Oh ! Mary, Mary, let the tale 
Of luckier votaries prevail, 
And happier, happier days be thine : 
But woes and phrenzy muft be mine, 



( 87 ) 



ODE XIII. 
THE SIX BARDS. 

FROM A NOTE TO THE POEM, ENTITLED, 

CROMA, OF OSSIAN, VERSIFIED. 

1784. 



ARGUMENT. 



Five Bards, and a Chief, himfelf alfo a Bard, having met in the 
Chief's hall, one evening in October, the time of the High- 
land Harveft, each goes feverally out to obferve the weather, 
which is then particularly variable, and returning, here gives 
his Account of it. 



FIRST BARD. 

The Night is dull and dark: in clouds 
Heav'n the high-top'd hill enfhrouds: 
From the black iky no moon doth look : 
The blait. I hear, the wood that (hook; 
Dull and diftant now it feems : 
And murmur low the valley ftreams. 



( 88 ) 

From the yew-tree's folemn (hade^ 

The lonely fcreech-owl wakes the dead. 

Behold yon mifty form arife ! 

Tis a ghoft ! It fades, it flies ! 

From the hut upon the hill 

The diftant dog doth howl j and ftill 

The flag lies by the mountain-rill ; 

By his fide the faithful hind: 

Hah ! thro' his horns fhe hears the wind \ 

She flarts, but links to reft again : 

The fearful roe doth fafe remain 

In the cleft rock : the heath-cock's head 

His fpreading wing in reft; doth lhadc. 

Abroad to ftray no beaft, nor bird, 
Save the owl and fox, is heard : 
She upon the leaflefs tree 3 
On the dark mountain, howling, he. 

Sad, panting, to defpair a prey, 
The traveller has loft his way; 
Thro' fhrubs and thorns, the foreft's maze, 
Betide the gurgling rills, he ftrays : 
The rock, the pool his foul affright; 
He fears the pale ghoft of the night. 
Trees to the furious blaft refound, 
And foiling branches (hake the ground : 



} 



( 89 ) 

By the wild wind the clinging thorn 
Along the fighing grafs is borne. 

The Night is cloudy ; full of ftorms; 
Dark} haunted by the ghoftly fprite: 
Wander the dead in ihadowy forms : 
My friends, receive me from the Nights 



SECOND BARD. 

Howling winds the mountain make; 
Faft down the hill defcend the fhowersj 
Windows clap, and forefts quake ; 

The growing river roars; 
The doubtful ford yon traveller tries ; 
But hark, that fhriek ! He falls, he dies \ 
The cattle fly $ the beating rain 
Drives them from the wat'ry plain j 
They tremble, as the torrents fall, 
And feek with eager eyes the flail. 
The Hunter Harts from fleep, difmay'd. 
And wakes the lone hut's fire decay'd; 
His dripping dogs fmoke round his hearth ; 
He flops the opening chink with earth. 
Loud roar two mountain-ftreams; they meet 
Befide his booth j while fad doth fit - 



Hi 



( 90 ) 

The fhepherd by the mountain's fide; 
He waits, till the full dreams fubfide; 
But gathering waters roll around. 
And groaning trees above him found 5 
He waits the moon's anting light, 
To his lov'd home to bear him right. 
Ghofts ride upon the ftorm to night: 
Sweet is their voice the dying winds among, 
And of other worlds their fong. 

The rain is paft, and tempefts blow ; 
Windows flap ; and rivers flow: 
Cold drops from the roof defcend ; 
The fky is clear; no clouds impend. 
But ah! See there the gathering ihowers; 
The weftern fky with darknefs lours : 
The night is ftormy ; void of light; 
My friends,, receive me from the Night. 



} 



THIRD BARD. 



The wind ftill founds between the hills ; 
Still the riven rocks it fills; 
From their high place the firs are bent; 
Wide the turfy hut is rent : 



( 91 ) 

Each way the clouds divided fail, 

And the burning ftars unveil : 

The meteor, token of our doom, 

Flies fparkling thro' the lurid gloom y 

It burns upon the hill : I fee 

The fern, dark rock, and fallen tree. 

What fhrouded ghoft, of paly hue, 

Beneath yon branches do I view ? 

The dark waves tumble on the lake) 

Upon its rocky fides they break : 

The oars upon the white wave move -, 

The boat is brimful in the cove : 

Sad fits a maid the rock befide ; 

She gazes on the rolling tide ; 

She waits her lover's promis'd fight, 

Whofe boat the faw, when yet 'twas light. 

Are thefe his fhatter'd oars, that break 

On the rough thore? Is this his fhriek, 

That in the whittling wind does fpeak? 

Hark ! Defcends the rattling hail - } 
Flakes of mow the ground o'erveil : 
White grows the top of every hill] 
And the ftormy wind is ftill : 
Varied, and cold the ftorm defcends : 
Receive me from the Night, my friends. 



} 



( 92 ) 



FOURTH BARD. 

The Night is calm j and fair : the Heaven 

Starry and blue : the clouds are driven 

Far by the winds, that are fuppreft ; 

And Moonlight on the hills doth reft: 

Trees glitter : Shine the mountain-ftreams : 

Bright rolls the lake its moon -reflecting beams 

The fcatter'd fhocks of corn I fee 

Upon the plain, and fallen tree: 

The wakeful hind the {hocks rebuilds, 

And whittles on the diftant fields. 

The Night is fettled, calm, and fair: 

But who is flitting in the air, 

She from the dead, in robe of fnow, 

With golden treffes on her brow, 

Chief- of-the-people's lovely child, 

Beneath the fpear of Death who fmil'd ? 

Come, lovely Maid, and blefs our fight, 

Thou, in whom Heroes took delight ! 

Hah ! on the blaft the phantom flies : 

Formlefs it melts into the ikies. 

Blue mifts acrofs the valley fleet : 
-Grey, on the hill the clouds they meet. 



( 93 ) 

The Moon throughout the Heav'ns is bright : 
The Night is ftarry, calm, and blue : 
Receive me not, my friends, from Night ; 
The Night is lovely to the view. 



FIFTH BARD. 

Calm, but dark the Night j a cloud 
Doth in the Weft the Moon enmroudj 
Crofs the dark hill her feeble beam 
Moves flowly : founds the diftant ftream; 
The torrent murmurs on the rock : 
From the booth is heard the cock. 
Pall is more than half the night : 
The houfewife wakes the dying light; 
The kindled fire difpels the gloom j 
The hunter thinks that morn is come; 
He calls his nimble dogs around ; 
Whittling he goes, and, at the found, 
With him o'er gloomy hills they bound: 
The cloud, with blafts difperfing, flees: 
The North's ftar-circled plough he fees : 
Much of the night to pats remains: 
Againft the molly rock he leans. 



} 



( 94 ) 

Harkl The wood a whirlwind makes j 
A murmur low the valley wakes ; 
The armies vaft of dead are there, 
Returning from the crowded air. 

Tfce Moon behind the mountain ileeps j 
Beyond that lofty rock fhe peeps : 

The ihadows of the trees are tall :- 

Now mafTy darknefs covers all : 

Wide the dreadful gloo?n extends; 
Receive me from the Night, my friends. 



SIXTH BARD. 

THE CHIEF HIMSELF. 

Let clouds upon the hills appearj 
Spirits fly, and travellers fearj 
In the woods let whirlwinds rife ; 
And falling ftorms difiurb the fkiesj 
Let windows clap, and torrents roll j 
Let meteors glare from pole to pole: 
Let the bright moon her radiance (lied, 
Or in black clouds enclofe her head ; 



( 95 ) 

Little the night employs my care, 

Stormy, or dark, or blue the air : 

Night flies before the gleam of morn, , 

Soon as his rays the hill adorn -, 

Difperfing clouds the d,:y reftore, 

But we return from night no more. 

Where are our mighty kings of old, 

Our far-fam'd Kings, in battle bold ? 

The fields, where once they fought, are dumb: 

Scarce remains their moffy tomb ! 

So We from memory ihall decay; 

This lofty houfe fhall (ink a way 5 

Our fons the fragments of the fall 

Shall fee not ; but to age mall call, 
To tell, where flood their Father's Hall ! 

Raife the fong 3 the harps refound ; 
Send the fhells of joy around 5 
Let an hundred tapers fhine; 
Youths and Maids in dances join 3 
The hoary-headed minftrel bring, 
The deeds of other times to ling : 
Of mighty Kings, renown'd of old ; 
Of Chiefs, that we no more behold ! 

Thus pafs away the cheerful night, 
Till the flrft gleams of morning-light; 



l 



( 96 ) 

Then, Youths, the twanging bow affurac 5 
And, thro' the Night's withdrawing gloom, 
With tuneful dogs the morning cheerj 
And climb the hills, and wake the deer ! 



( 97 > 



O D E XIV. 

FROM A NOVEL, 1798.. 

T. 

Thy form revives me, lovely maid! 
Thine image glances crofs the (hade, 
And (hews a gleam of joy : 
Perchance the clouds, that gather round. 
May not o'erhang the diftant ground, 
Nor diftant hopes deftroy: 

Perchance the ray, that breaks 
From thy enchanting mien, a happier omen fpeaks. 

O days of foft delight, 
Too little priz'd, when in thy fight, 

At Orleton's feftive dome, 
I pafs'd the dove-wing'd hours, and view'd 
The beauties, on which now I brood, 
As through thefe fhades I roam ! 
O days, that come no more; 
How fondly I regret your pleafures, now they 're o'er! 
H 



( 98 ) 



III. 



O flay, fweet formj 
My chilling profpects warm} 
Nor leave me thus a prey to dreary Woe ! 

O flay, fweet form, and calm 
My beating breaft, and pour a balm 
Upon thefe wounds, no other cure can know !-— 
— Alas ! the vifion fliesj 
And leaves me in defpair to breathe my lonely fighs. 



( 99 ) 



ODE XV. 



THE VICTIM OF DESPAIR. 



FROM A NOVEL, 1802. 



I. 

Wan moon, behind that cloud 
Why doft thou hide thy filvery rays ? 

O do not thus thy beams enftiroud 
From the lorn wretch, who for thy guidance prays! 

While thus I tread the precipice, 

And hear the roar of torrents rife, 
Break forth, and lead my fleps, my fpirits calm, 
And on my burfting heart fried e'en a tranfient balm! 

II. 

To thee the maniac bends; 
To thee he pours the mournful figh I 

But not thy moody light attends 
One 'mid the frantic tribe fo fad as I. 
H 2 



( 100 ) 

O fave me from the fiend, Defpair, 
Who in this darknefs feems to wear 
A giant fhape of more terrific mien, 
While by the mifts of night his form is dimly feen I 

IIL 

Ferch'd on fome giddy height 
Behind me oft the demon fits j 

The elements combine their fpitej 
Bellows the wave, and howls the blafl by fits. 
Urg'd by the fiend's revengeful hand 
Upon the trembling edge I ftand; 
But fav'd by Heaven, recall my erring feet, 
And from the yawning gulph with fhuddering awe 
retreat. 

IV. 

And oft in dreary dells, 
With midnights' fable mantle clad', 

He fills the air with piercing yells; 
And brings to Fancy's view the wretch with tortures 
mad ! 
Then, when the furTerer, wild with woe, 
Would arm againft himfelf the blow, 
Strives to ftrike home the inftrument of death,. 
And from the gafping wound let out the vital breath. 



( 101 ) 



V. 



Fair Orb, fend forth thy ray ; 
Banith the phrenzied phantom erew, 

Which round about the demon play, 
And give the fiend a more diffracting hue ! 

Thou haft, foft Beam, no fairy fpell 

The withering power himfelf to quell; 
But gloom lefs terrible thou can'ft beftow ; 
And on his woe-ftruck rage^a calmer influence throw! 

VI. 

Wild Fancy's headlong ftarts; 
The laugh convuls'd, the frantic flare ; 

The fcream that thro' the welkin darts j 
And threats of withering found , that make th' af- 
frighted air, 
From me, O Heaven, in mercy chafe! 
Mine be Defpair's more fullen face; 
And let no tranfient thapes of Hope appear, 
To make the hues of Woe by contrail more fevere! 



■ 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 



DEDICATION TO A NOVEL, 1802. 

THE AUTHOR TO HIS BOOK. 

Child of my brain, fond imp, who many a day, 
Haft, as I nurs'd thee, footh'd my cares away, 
Go forth, and with attemper d fears await 
From the world's curious eye, thy doubtful fate ! 
Bred in the ihades, whofe lolitary reign 
Gives heartuck forrow leifure to complain, 
Where no gay objects break th' unvarying hours j 
Where Fear before, Regret behind me lours, 
How in thy growing form could I infufe 
The brilliant colours of an happier Mufe? 
See Avarice, Fraud, and Perfidy combine 
Againft my iil-placd tmft the dark defign j 
See "hard Unkindaefs" ftrain th' "averted eye," 
And "light with her, fee Summer-friendlhip fly;" 



( 103 ) 

Mark Folly's grin, as yonder cap of bells 
Stands to her view: how far and wide fhe tells, 
'Twas for herfelf the gingling crown was made ; 
For fee her temples by herfelf array'd ! 
Yet, as the laugh, the demon fought, goes round, 
Lo ! with mad anger how fhe flamps the ground ! 
Now deep Revenge her burfting bofom fires j 
With Calumny and Malice fhe confpires, 
And calls the fiends of hell, in dire debate, 
To blafl the haplefs victim of her hate S 

'Tts thus that Care my life to torrow dooms, 
And, ere my manhood's paft, my ftrength confumes; 
Still at my heart the greedy vulture lies; 
When Morning dawns, his ravenous maw he plies: 
Nor yet at night, fhook from his prey, he flies. 

But Truth's all piercing luflre mall prevail, 
And Falfehood wade the venom of her tale! 
In rural bowers to pafs the virtuous day, 
Far from the crowd where rival paffions fway; 
By intellectual toils my mind to raife, 
And feek from mental efforts all my praife; 
Sure will at laft the tongue of Slander charm, 
And Hell's malignity itfelf difarm ! 
For not with Hate my trembling breaft is fraught; 
Far other throes has tearful Feeling taught 5 



( 104 ) 

Soft to the mild, tho' to the clamorous loud ; 
Humble to meeknefs, tho' to infult proud ; 
Prompt to forgive, if ready to refent, 
E'en when the anger's juft, I foon relent ! 

Awake then, Hope ! No more by wrongs oppreft, 
Beneath thefe clouds of Sorrow I fhall reft; 
But long o'erwhelm'd by undeferved blame, 
Tried by Ad verity's relentlefs flame, 
With fufTerings, and "with dangers compafs'd round,'* 
Shall purer from the fearching fire be found ! 

Sept. 6, 1802. 



( 105 } 



SONG. 



TROM A NOVEL. 



"WRITTEN IN THE CHARACTER OF A BEAUTIFUL 

GIRL OF SIXTEEN, IMMURED IN AN OLD 

DESERTED MANSION, IN A SOtllARf 

COUNTRY. 



I. 

I see the bud open; I hear the bird ling; 

The flutter of joy's on the tree; 
The lambs of the valley all frifk in a ring ; 
The lowing herds greet the arrival of Spring; 

All Nature is laughing fave me! 



I. 

I have no one, to whom I can pleafure impart} 
I have no one my converfe to fhare; 

This folitude chills all the flow of my heart; 

And my bread with regrets of more venomous dart 
Thefe figures of cheerfulnefs tear ! 



( 106 ) 



III. 



O why am I thus in feclufion immur'd? 

In fecrecy why was I nurft: 
O wherefore fo anxioufly am I fecur'd? 
This dull lonely life can no more be endur'dj 

The bonds of my prifon I'll burft ! 



IV. 

I have heard the owl hoot ; I have heard the ghoft 
fhriek, 
And the ftorm thake the tower and the tree; 
1 have cower' d round the fire,, when my lips dar'd 

not fpeak ; 
But like thefe, fure no trials my fpirits could break, 
When all are delighted 4ave me ! 



< 107 ) 



LINES 

WRITTEN IMMEDIATELY AFTER PARTING 
FROM A LADY. 



She is gone! The occafion for ever is pad! 

How each ftep, as it brought me too near tothelaftp 

Still gave a new rend to my heart! 
" Three moments to fly," to my bofom I faid, 
" Three moments, and then the occafion is fled, 

" The concern of thy life to impart!" 

II. 

"Woe is me! She is gone! My too flattering breaft, 
That fcarce knew what 'twas doing, the words half 
ex pre It, 

And "Be mine" on my tongue died away! 
" Be mine !" at the thought the tear flood in my eye; 
And confus'd as I was, me perchance knew not why. 

Came the time flie no longer might flay ! 



( 108 ) 

III. 

She is gone, and fhe knows not the pangs that I feel! 
Perhaps, if flie did, the dear angel might heal 

The wounds that her beauties have made !, 
She might fmile ! — By the gods, how I'd blefs her 

dear fmile ; 
She might fay, " As your words feem devoid of all 
guile, 
« I will truft I mall not be betray'd T 



IV. 



" By the Father of Heav'n," from my heart I'd reply, 
" If all that I fpeak, that I write, look, or figh, 

(l Is as warm as the love in my breaft, 
ee May my right hand its office forget, and my truth 
" Ne'er again be believ'd, but the bud of my youth 

" With infamy wither oppreft !" 



V. 



She is gone ! had (lie heard me thus utter the vow, 
Perchance (lie had deign'd a kind look to beftow, 
And a tear had returned to mine ! 



( 109 ) 

Her kind heart with pity had view'd my diftrefs, 
And, like angels enjoying the pleafure to blefs, 
Perchance ilie had faid, " I'll be thine !" 



vr. 



" I'll be thine !"' O what rapturous accents to me S. 
Tears had gufh'd from mine eyes, and I'd fallen on 
my knee> 

And blefs'd her a thoufand times o'er! 
Perdition revenge me, if ever my voice, 
Or my heart, for the kindnefs to me in her choice,, 

Forgot the dear maid to adore h 



VII. 



But {he's gone! Where, O where am I ftraying? I 

dream ! 
O Fancy, with what airy plans doft thou teem ! 

She is gone, and has heard not my wt>es ! 
She is gone, and it was not my angel that fmil'd^ 
'Twas her fhade my idolatrous fancy beguil'd! 

On delation my raptures arofel 



( no ) 



VERSES 



INSCRIBED IN A BOOK, A LEGACY TO A VERY YOVW& 

LADY,* FROM PHILIP ABBOT, AN OLD MAN, WHO 

HAD BEEN A SERVANT IN HER FAMILY, AND 

DIED, AGED Q6, MARCH 1782, 



03. 1782. 

When a few moons (heav'n grant the lot!) have fhed 
Their ripening luftre o'er thine infant head -, 
And Shakefpear's page, my Lucy, fhall unroll 
To thy rapt fight the mirror of the foul; 
There, 'mid hisfcenes with thoufand colours fi aught, 
Old Adam mail enchant thy wond'ring thought. 
Such was the man, who bad thy mother bear 
This fmall memorial to thy future care : 
From youth to age her grateful houfe be ferv'd, 
Nor from nrict Virtue's path a moment fwerv'd. - 
When life's dark winter, as it 'gan to lower, 
Blafted his fight, and bound up every power 

* Now wife of the Rey. Henry Rice, 



( 111 ) 

For active good, yet many a lengthened day 
With meek content he fmil'd beneath its fwayj 
And ftill with kindeft thoughts his time beguil'd, 
And bleft the race, for whom he once had toil'ds^ 
Till ninety years being paft in meafure even, 
He fail'd with confcious triumph up to heaven.* 

* He had beerf blind for more than thirty years. Dr. Eger- 
ton brought him, when a boy, from the neighbourhood of his 
rectory at Settrington in York mire. 

In the latter part of his life he paid an annual vifit to the re- 
fidence of the author's father, where, notwithstanding his lofs 
of fight, he could walk alone both about the houfe and the. 
garden. 



- 



C H2. ) 



VERSES 

0\N THE LATE UN ANIMOUS RESOLUTIONS TO SUPPORT 
THE CONSTITUTION. 

WRITTEN DEC. 19, 1792. 

Hark! 'tis the fhout of joy that meets my ear; 

And Concord's plaudits make the echoing fphere ! 

" Long live our glorious King!" And long may live 

The bleffed days that Law and Order give ! 

And may our children's children ftill enjoy 

The facred fence, that villains would deftroy y 

And ages hence in peace and plenty fmile 

Beneath the fhelter of the noble pile ! 

Mark how Sedition's clam'rous tongue is drown'd f 

Mark how his looks his fruftrate fchemes confound I 

Mark how the guilty Plunderer fcowls to find 

His golden virions vanifh'd like the wind! 

Mark how the Murderer grins, fince now no more 

He hopes to warn his favage hands in gore ! 

And Envy foul, and difappointed Pride 

In fallen gloom their dreams would vainly hide, 

O'er their Lords' necks with cruel taunts to ride! 



( H3 ) 

O bail to Britons' generous hearts ! that brave 
All ftorms, the caufe of Liberty to fave ; 
But, ftill to Wifdom and to Order true, 
Licence and Anarchy with hate purfue ! 
O meliorated fcheme, that Time has drawn 
From man)' a ftrnggle paft, and peril gone; 
From Wifdom acting on the deeds enroll'd 
Of many a wondrous Sage, and Warrior bold! 
O Constitution, with more power endued 
To curb the Vicious and protect the Good, 
Than e'er the page of Hift'ry told before ! 
And fhall we prize your happinefs no more? — 
O civil Policy, whole power prefcribes 
Riches and fafety to Barbarian tribes; 
That from the woods the houfelefs wanderer calls 
To the fweet flicker of furrounding walls j 
From where, o'er fcanty and uncertain food, 
Naked and fhivering half their hours they brood; 
Or o'er drear wilds throughout the tedious day 
With endlefs toil purfue the needful prey; 
To the warm veftment; to the cheerful dome, 
Where fure of fafety each commands his home; 
Where Hill the l>read, that wholefome Toil may get, 
In peace his little tribe may round him eat ! 
O Policy ! not only fuch thy praife ! 
Mankind to higher blifs thou yet can'ft raife! 
I 



( 114 ) 

To touch the heart, to feed th' ethereal flame, 
That feeks by polilh'd arts immortal fame; 
Manners to foften, foothe the maddening ftrife, 
And teach the fweet civilities of life, 
'Tis thine, bleft Power! — and thii'e to fcatter round 
The ufeful fplendor, with which Wealth is crown'd ! 
Hence Labour finds employ; the Poor are fed; 
The induftrioLis Artift's board's with plenty fpread; 

Hence Commerce lifts her fails; and hence explores 
The world's wide circuit for its varied ftores ! 

Guarded by thee, fweet Policy, by thee ! 

The fruits that, borne o'er many a dangerous fea, 

Months of fad peril and long toil employ'd, 

In peace fecurely are at home enjoy'd; 

Guarded by thee, the Swain who tills the ground, 

In fafety fees his harveft ripen round; 

Nor o'er the fpoiis of lavage clans he weeps, 

But the fame feed he fows, himfelf he reaps ! 

Guard as thou art then, guarded may'ft thou be 

By future ages reiblute as we ! 

May JunHce wave her fword, if Faction rife, 

And (lop th' audacious Coward's treacherous lies! 

Woe be the day, that fees the Villain lead 

Deftruction's hell-hounds to the rueful deed, 

When all that's fair, and all that's wife, muft fall, 

Ana Wafte and Defolation cover all ! 



( 115 ) 

Ne'er may I fee the hour! — but mould my doom 
Lengthen my life till fuch a conflict come, 
May the firft fword be pointed at my breaft, 
And in the quiet grave fecure my reft! 



r 2 



_£_ 



_^ 



( 116 > 
VERSES 

UPON ANCIENT MANSIONS.* 



Hail, ye bold turrets, and thou reverend Pile, 
That feem in Age's hoary veft to fmile! 
Thou noble Arch, thro' which the maiTy gate 
Opes to yon Hall in flow and folemn ftate, 
All-hail ! For here creative Fancy reads 
Of ages paft the long- forgotten deeds; 
Tales wrote in magic marks thy walls among, 
By Time's fwift current as it pafs'd along. 
Hail,, virtuous race! whofe Sires from age to age, 
The gay and grave, the Soldier and the Sage, 
Here, where you ftill in happy peace abide, 
Caught their firft breath, and here in quiet died! 
Yes here the bold Crufader from his toils 
Return'd t' enjoy his long-loft children's fmiles: 
Yon pietur'd window, where the doubtful light 
Buriting thro' mellow panes enchants the light, 

* Thefe were written for a friend, as part of the Preface of 
the fecond volume of the Topographer, and were accordingly 
published m that work. 



( H7 ) 

Rais'd by his hand with Glory's honed flame, 
Shews the bold Crofs the emblem of his fame; 
That Grofs which ftill with fpirit undecay'd 
Againfl the cruel Spaniard was difplay'd, 
When Raleigh led his bands from fhore to more, 
New worlds with dauntltfs courage to explore. 
Yon old hereditary trees, that fpread 
Their rude luxuriant umbrage o'er your head, 
Their grateful fhade, two hundred fummers part, 
O'er the foft flumbers of your Fathers caft ! 
O ye wild delis, ye hills with beeches crown'd, 
Ye opening lawns, that ) r onder pales furroundj 
Within whofe circuit, flill alarm'd with fear, 
At every quivering leaf- fall, leaps the deer; 
And unreftrain'd by modern bounds, to find 
His ancient ranges (hoots before the wind! 
Ne'er may the Stranger, rais'd by lawlefs gain, 
Difturb the peaceful Lords of your domain, 
Pollute thefe haunts by cruel rapine won, 
And ope your haliow'd umbrage to the Sun! 
But the fame race, that blew the bugle horn 
Along thefe echoing woods, to cheer the morn, 
When the fourth Harry heard the lively call, 
And grac'd your lord in yonder feaftful Hall, 
May the fame virtuous race your echoes court, 
Purfuing ftill th' hereditary fport, 



( 118 ) 

And roam in fummer funs, or reft, beneath 
Your lovely fhades, and catch your fragrant breath ; 
And, ftill in death the fame defires to keep, 
In yon low chapel with their fathers fleep ! 



( 119 ) 



DESCRIPTION OF ELLEN ST. AUBYN. 

FROM AN UNFINISHED STORY. 
WRITTEN IN 1784. 

In Truth, (he was a wondrous beauteous dame, 
As e'er was founded by the trump of Fame! 
Slight was her form, and tall 5 her taper waift 
Was fhort; its circuit fmall a girdle grac'd ; 
And from her milkwhite garment's wavy flow, 
Her flender ancle fweetly (hone below : 
White her plump hands, and foft round-riling arms, 
Whofe blue meand'ring veins increas'd their charms; 
But more her opening bofom caught the fight; 
Firmly it fwell'd, and beam'd forth rapt delight; 
As polidi'd marble fmooth; as driv'n fuow 'twas 

white : 
And moil the blooming beauties of her face, 
Her cheek's foft rofes, and her forehead's grace; 
(This white as lilies; thofe of livelier hue 
Shone frem as in the fields, when dipt in dew;) 



( 120 ) 

Her ivory teeth ; and chief, her foften'd eyes, 
Like Cynthia's beams, which gently light the fkies, 
With more than mortal blifs the gazer fill'd ; 
While her light auburn locks, that fweets diftill'd, 
Around her neck, and cheeks, and forehead play'd 
Luxuriant, and diffus'd a varied fhade, 
Whofe tints divine no painter e'er effay'd ! 



H-mmgmm 



( m ) 

ELEGY, 

WRITTEN IN NOVEMBER 1782. 
TO MRS. LEFROY, OF ASH, IN HAMPSHIRE. 



Ere yet in Cam's dull walks and croaking fcbools, 
She faint beneath cold Reafon's chill embrace, 

My Fancy pants one favouring hour to rule, 
And weave a wreath my lifter's hair to grace. 

Sweet nightingale, fince I like thee with fong, 
While others fl umber, footh the night away, 

Oh ! give thy power to lead the heart along, 
Thro' the foft thrillings of the plaintive lay ! 

Then as I bid the fairy fabric rife, 

Of prattling Infancy again to view, 
My melting voice from every lift'ner's eyes, 

Shall call forth penfive Memory's pearly dew, 



— 



( 122 ) 

For well, my Sifter, claim thofe boyifh days, 
The fofteft ftrain my feeble powers can give, 

And well doft thou deferve my warmeft lays, 
If any lay of mine may hope to live ! 

Twas then, if ever in this world of woes 

She deign'd to reft, that blifs indeed was mine, 

And then, if ever in my breaft it role, 

To light the flame of rapturous thought was thine! 

Ere yet my infant feet had ftrength to ftray, 

Dryads and Wood-nymphs caught me in their arms; 

"With them explor'd I every cave by day, 

And all their wildeft haunts, fecure from harms. 

By glimmering twilight, lift'ning to thy tale 

Of ghofts and goblins round the hearth we hung, 

And thought we heard their voice in every gale, 
And ftarted as the Fays the death-bell rung. 

With fome ftrange ftory, conftant as the night, 
By thy lov'd voice my frame to ileep was laid, 

When mimic Fancy rofe at Reafon's flight, 
And with redoubled force each fcene difplay'd. 



( 123 ) 

But when thy footfteps led me to the Fane, 

Mid thickeft woods embower'd from vulgar eyes; 

(Where as they watch'd in dell and narrow lane, 
From their green beds the peeping Nymphs would 
rife,) 

That Fane where Poefy, refiftlefs dame, 
In melting Hate has plac'd her rofy throne, 

My' enchanted foul quick caught th' ethereal flame, 
And vow'd eternal love to her alone. 

Bleft be the hour, beyond all others bleft, 
That faw me captive in the fair one's arms, 

And every blefling crown my filter's breaft, 

Who taught my youth to prize her lafting charms ! * 

* This moft lovely, mod accomplished, and moft excellent 
woman, died by a fall from her horfe, in December 1804. 



L 



( 124 ) 



EPISTLE 

TO A FRIEND, ON A VISIT IN LINCOLNSHIRE, 
AUGUST 9, 1784. 

ON THE PLEASURES OF VICISSITUDE.* 



****** ! My Mufe, to thee, whom moft I prize. 

At Friend (hip's altar lights her facrifice. 

Thou dear companion of my early days, 

To thee from childhood was I wont to raife 

My voice, and fear thy blame, and love thy generous 

praife ! 
Tho' harmnefs in my rugged lines difpleafe, 
Yet mellowing time mail make them flow with eafe; 
For when the Fancy's flame, and force of thought, 
A deeper energy of foul have wrought, 
Then varied like my mind (hall pour along 
The itrong, yet tuneful current of my fong. ' 

* This Poem is an attempt to imitate the freedom, variety, 
and energy of Dryden's Rhythm. 



( 125 ) 

But now when manhood fcarce has fining my nerves, 

When every power too oft to Pleafure fwervesj 

How mail I tell thee all I think and feel? 

E'en now I fee thee from the circle fleal, 

In fome lone fpot to feed thy reillefs foul, 

That fc6rns by vulgar barriers all controul ; 

And longs to fly to other worlds, and burfts beyond 

the goal ! 
But mortal powers, for flights fo daring weak, 
Muft foon defcend, and humbler pleafures feek: 
Some beauteous maiden now., (for Beauty eer 
Twin'd with my thoughts, in all will have its mare), 
I fee thee tending ; in her converfe fweet, 
For wearied powers to find a foft retreat ; 
With the fmooth cheek to feaft the raptur'd fight, 
To watch the beaming eyes with fond delight ; 
Be fometimes yours, and fometimes be it mine ! 
For that dear pleafure, I can ne'er refign. 
Viciffitude, oh lov'd Viciffitude, 
Thou bring'lt the foul with zefl for joy endu'dj- 
Thou giv'ft the rapture to the lonely hour, 
And to the focial, thou its kindling power ! 
E'en now from thought intent, and inward light. 
As burfts on yonder yellow fields my fight, 
With double joy the golden fcenes delight : 



■Hi 



( 126 ) 

The influence thine, more frefh the fcenes arife j 

Infpiring Autumn, with her gleaming ikies, 

And all her merry harveft-train, comes dancing to 

my eyes. 
And now perchance, as Fancy points, my friend, 
While his flow fteps thro' evening homeward bend, 
From gothic caflles, and majeltic walls, 
From gloomy gateways, and from echoing halls \ 
Spies fome warm cot, and owns thy influence there! 
What double raptures in his eyes appear, 
To find content, and Peace, and Mirth within 
Thofe little walls, fo low, fo weak, and thin ! 
Yes, lov'd Viciflitude, and e'er may he 
His tafte for pleafurc quicken'd find by thee ! 
From fecial intercourfe, and focial good, 
Seek the pure pleafures of the lonely wood} 
Thence plum'd his feathers, fly again to man, 
By practice ftrength'ning what his thought began ! 
In conftant pleafure if defire we fleep, 
The palled powers in dull flagnation fleep : 
E'en the dear idol, for whofe fancied joys 
We'd lofe the world, in full poffeflion cloys ! 
May I, (nor fmile, my friend, tho' varying fchemes 
Of life with me are tickle as my dreams,) 
May I, in life fome gently active part, 
Enough the joys to heighten of my heart, 



( 12/ ) 

Choofe — Whether fleering in the toils of Law; 

Or wifhing filent Senate's ears to draw ! 

Whate'er my fate; in blifs, or in diftrefs, 

It' Power adorn me, or if Want deprefs ; 

Thee ftill my friend, (may heav'n but grant me thee 

Thro' life !) my anchor fhall I find to be! 

May I, thro' many a year's improving round, 

Whatever fortune mall thy willies bound, 

As firm, and faithful ftill to thee be found! 

Adieu! may Beauty's eyes, and foothing power 
Fill the fweet void of thy vacation hour! 
But mark the leilons of my thoughtful lyre, 
Think not, what pleafes now, will never tire 1 



( J28 > 



EPITAPH. 



FROM MARY DE CL1FFOKD, 1792. 



Here reft the bones of one, whofe ancient race 

Ages have feen in this fequefler'd place, 

Removd from courtly vice,, and vulgar lfrife, 

Lead the fweet tenor of their peaceful life. 

Not that, whene'er their country's good might call, 

Int'rett could check, or danger could appall 3 

For oft in arms, acrofs the billowy main, 

Proud France has feen them on her conquer'd plain ; 

For Freedom check'd, or Royal Power enflav'd, 

Domeflic furies often have they brav'dj 

And often has the Britiih fenate rung 

With the bold thunder of their honeffc tongue I 

But foon to native fields they lov'd to fly, 

Where their own trees might o'er their flumbers %h 

There no vile paffions thro' the troubled day 

Drive Fancy, Charity, and Peace away, 



( 129 ) 

Nor Folly's noife, nor Envy's haggard form 
Tear the vex'd bofom with perpetual ftorm. 
A cheerful courfe of lengthen'd life they kept, 
Then here in quiet with their fathers flept. 






( 130 ) 

VERSES 

ON ANCESTRY, AND A COUNTRY LIFE. 
FROM MARY DE CLIFFORD. 



O ye, who in your ancient maniions dwell, 
On upland lawn, green plain, or quiet dell, 
Proud of your Fathers' glories! let not Guile 
From thofe fweet fcenes feduce Contentment's fmile ; 
Let Grandeur flam, and Orientation's eye 
Look, as it glances, for the envious flgh j 
Let Folly fpend, and Indian riches blaze, 
Scorn'd or unnoticed to your wifer gaze ! 
Long have black vices mark'd Ambition's road, 
While tortur'd Confcience haunts his falfe abode. — ■ 
Forth let them come from city and from town, 
In modilli manners boaft their brave renown, 
Vain of their prefent fplendour; while the pad 
'Neath a dark veil of feign'd contempt is caft ! 
Ah ! fee the puny upftarts of a day, 
Rife to infuit, and flatter to betray ; 



( 131 ) 

While ye, alas ! ye fooliih, and ye vain ! 
Leave your own pofts to pert and low difdain ! 
Oh wake, nor let the fpecious plea prevail, 
While the low villain boails the generous tale ; 
Scorn the proud icorner, let the long lov'd name 
Of your dead fathers holy reverence claim; 
Boaft how ihry Jed a life of cheerful eafe, 
Beneath their own hereditary trees; 
That far from all that's low and mean, and bred 
By rural Virtue, all their moments fled; 
Nor nurs'd in mobs, nor yet from Knavery's fchool, 
They ftemm'd thro' crimes and blood to wealth and 
rule! 



K 2 



( 132 ) 



DEDICATION TO A NOVEL, l/Qg. 



TO ******j A.M. OF HIS MAJESTY'S SHIP *******, 
OFF THE NILE. 



" Whence come thefe plaintive tones of difcontent, 
Thefe forrowing murmurs crofs the Ocean fent? 
Why, while on Victory's courfe I mount the prow, 
As my brave comrades the proud billows plough, 
For chearing notes of joy, why meets my ear 
Anger's hoarfe voice ? why flows Affliction's tear?" 
'Tis thus, when firft the long-expe&ed fail 
To Nile's immortal banks (hall bear my tale, 
Friend of my youth, who fcorn'ft vile flattery's phrafe, 
I feem to hear reproach, inftead of praife ! 
But think, fince firft from boyifh trammels freed, 
On Cam's refounding banks, on Granta's mead, 
The jocund revels we were wont to lead, 
How many a grief has fpread its mournful hues 
O'er all my thoughts, and darken'd all my views ! 



( 133 ) 

Then feem'd, as on my lyre the free notes rang, 
Fame's laurel chaplet in my reach to hang, 
And bright behind Futurity's pierc'd (hade 
Hope's airy figures in the funfhine play'd : 
Then hollow Friendfliip told the traded lie, 
And the tear mov'd in falfe Affe&ion's eye ; 
Then mad Philofophy conceal'd in fmiles, 
And veil'd with gaudy flowers, her future wiles, 
Nor yet had once, with diftant triumphs warm, 
Let drop the mafk that hid the demon's form ! 
But foon the fairy colours 'gan to fadej 
Hence the gay vefts which Folly's (hape array'd, 
Hence the loud fhouts of fenfelefs mirth, the roar 
Of Bacchanalian orgies, pleas'd no more : 
The crowded city's din ; the idiot rites, 
In which dull Fafhion's votary delights, 
Difgufted ; and to quiet vales I fled, 
Where winds might whifper mufic o'er my head. 
There, in the lap of languid eafe, I lay 
Many a long night and long inglorious day : 
No titles brightened my ignoble name, 
No riches lighted up my dying fame, 
No more the circle lift'ned as I fpoke, 
Attracted by fome wealthier fool's dull joke : 
But Pity, the mean coward's infult, fell 
To ring my vanifh'd honour s parting knell. 



( 134 ) 

Yet, long uneafy in their a(hes kept, 

The fmould'ring fires of former efforts flept. 

At length I burft Sloth's ignominious chain, 

And wak'd the long-forgotten lyre again ! 

Then they, who once had triumph'd o'er my falL 

Stung with mad anger, nurs'd the riling gall, 

And Envy, Malice, Calumny, combin'd 

The deadly draught, to blaft my peace of mind! 

O ye, who ftill to faith and honour true, 

Amid retirement's fhades, (ye glorious few!) 

Cherilh my voice, my name, with growing love, 

And in the lowering temped kindeft prove, 

For you the Mufe a lafting wreath fhall weave, 

Of which no time your temples ihall bereave ! 

But ye, ye faithlefs, who in forrow's hour 

Shrank from the cloud, and fled the chilling fhower > 

Who thought, while yet I fail'd on Folly's fiream, 

Urg'd the light race, Ihot the gay chariot's gleam, 

Spread the rich banquet to a crowd of fools, 

And liv'd as one of Fortune's fenfual tools ; 

Who thought that wifdora iffued from my tongue, 

And boafted kindred as my praife ye fung ; 

Yet, fince the Mufe revives, and temperate days 

Nurfe my lone ftudies, far from fplendour's blaze, 

Who hear no eloquence, no fenfe difcern, 

But with cold cowardly averlion turn ; 



( 135 ) 

Ye mean ! ye ftupid ! lofty fcorn will fpare 
The fate ye merit, and your names forbear ! — 

Then think, my friend, in what impervious clouds 
Black Care my melancholy profpe&s fhrouds, 
O'er fcenes, which genial funs in vain illume., 
Impends, and throws an univerfal gloom -, 
" Sheds browner horrors o'er the frowning woods. 
Deepens the murmurs of the winter floods */' 
And, chilling all the Mufe's boyifh fire, 
Bids none but plaintive notes efcape the lyre ! 

Think and forgive, nor let reproach again 
Pervade thy bofom at the mournful ftrain ! 
So (hall the friendfliip, which, with ray ferene, 
Has warm'd our breafts in every varying fcene 
Of life's tempeftuous ways, from earlier!; youth 
To the laft hour, retain its equal truth ! 

* Pope's Eloifa to Abelard, ver. 169, 170. 



( 136 ) 



LINES, 

WRITTEN ON THE RECOLLECTION OF ****, HIS 
NATIVE PLACE, 

BY F.H. ESQ. 1792. 

FROM A KOVIL. 

(i Sweet native fpot! at thy long-cheiim'd name 
Again awakes the Mufe's dying flame : 
It wakes, and lights me to thy 'tangled ftiades, 
Thy groves umbrageous, and thy leaf-flrown glades; 
Thy hills, from whence the blue horizon round, 
With diftaut fpires, and towers, and feas, is crown'd; 
Thy glens, where, deep-retir'd, my childifh days 
Too oft were fpent in dreams of future praife !— 
All rife, and, colour d in thy fairy light, 
Are bodied forth before my ravinYd fight, 
Bright as when firft upon my tender mind 
The deep-hued forms of Nature were defign'd. — 
But, oh! my foul ! though bright each object's hue, 
Does Joy again falute thee at the view ? 
Have years departed, though they yet befpeak 
No filver hairs, no furrows on my cheeky 



( is; ) 

Say, have they parr, nor left behind a fling, 

Regret's (harp poifon o'er their charms to fling?— 

Thou fpreading oak, beneath whofe branches dark 

My childhood wont fweet Nature's voice to mark ; 

To fee the golden orb at morning rife, 

And watch its crimfon fall with wiftful eyes; 

Why at thine image is my beating breaft 

With grief and penfive difcontent oppreft?— 

Ah! now hoarfe hollow murmurs meet my ear; 

And thus the deep reproach I feem to hear ! 

<( Why was thine infant mind each rural fight 

Form'd to receive, and tremble with delight? 

Why thus thy heart to beat, to thrill, to glow, 

And feel with keener anguifh ev'ry woe ? 

Oh why, while ftretch'd beneath my cov'ring fhade, 

Were forms aerial to thy view difplay'd ? 

Why did fuch vifions wild thy foul entrance, 

And fairy circles to thy fancy dance ? 

To wafte in refllefs indolence the day, 

Or feem 'mid Mirth's loud fons, while mournful, gay ? 

In courts to bow, in forums to difpute, 

'Mid Folly's thoughtlefs talkers to be mute ? 

With fault'ring voice, and looks that fpeak the fool* 

Helplefs to fit, while Dulnefs gives the rule ? 

To rival country fquires, and city beaux, 

To feek the palm the chafe or courfe beflows ? 



( 138 ) 

To vie with thofe, whofe hard unfeeling heart 
Can the lure pow'r of Victory impart? 
The paths of mawkifh Diffipation run ; 
To ride, to drive, to game — to be undone ? 
Ah, no ! Far other hopes thy youth defign'd ! 
To try the nobler contefts of the mind! 
The trembling motions of the heart to trace ; 
And catch the beauteous hues of Nature's face! 
Thy talent wafted, how wilt thou atone 
The flagrant crime before Heaven's awful throne ! 
Ere yet old Age upon thy fancy lours, 
Weakens thy hopes, and freezes all thy pow'rs, 
The flying moments feize; the path purfue 
That opes Fame's purer chaplets to thy view !" 

Enough, lov'd Tree ! Ah, now' the murmurs clofe ! 
The fhadowy branches hang in deep repofe ! 
Then once more, O ye boughs, whofe foothing gloom 
Can with frefh vigour imp the Mufe's plume, 
Cherim the dreams, that nYd my childifh brain, 
And bring a juft ambition back again! — 



( 13 9 ) 



L I N E S 

WRITTEN IN THE CHARACTER OF THE HERO OF 
A NOVEL, 179S. 



"OHark! See Ruin enters! By his fide 

O view the gaunt relentlefs fiends that ride! 

See Peculation, and Perverted Law, 

And bloated Wealth, whom hounds of Murder draw; 

Extortion, mounted on the pamper'd fleed, 

Which the laft tears of ftarv'd Misfortune feed ; 

And black Malignity, all dreft in fmilesj 

And Avarice, fixiving to conceal his wiles: 

And yet an hundred harden'd imps behind, 

That feaft upon the forrows of Mankind ! 

Hark, they approach !-— -Ye fiends of Hell, away! — 

Dear native fields, ye mull not be their prey 1 

Shades of my fathers, which the circling Sun, 

As twice three centuries his courfe he run, 

Has feen, in fafety, o'er the faithful head 

Of the fame race, your antient umbrage fpread! 



( 140 ) 

Shall cruel hands pollute your dark retreats ? 

Shall Infamy defile your facred feats ? 

Ye lawns, on which my happy childhood play'dj 
Ye paths, where firll my infant footfleps ftray'dj 
Ye boughs, which firft I twilled into bowers; 
Ye primrofe banks, where firft I pick'd your flowers ; 
Your long-lov'd charms fhall foreign mailers own ? 
Shall foreign ears infult your flighted moan ? 
Along your lilent copfes, and your dells, 
Shall pufT'd-up Folly fhake her cap of bells ? 
In name of Tafte direct the axe's blow ? 
Laugh at your fhrieks, and lay your glories low ? 
Ye towers, that long have rais'd your heads fublime, 
Firm and unfhaken 'mid the florms of Time ! 
Ye halls, that oft with echoing founds have rung, 
When the rude minllrels tales of heroes fungj 
When Feafl, and Hofpitality, and roar 
Of Mirth went round, the genial goblet o'er; 
Where Hill the blazing hearth, at Chriltmas-tidc, 
The froft and fnow, and wind and rain, defy'dj 
And Eafe at loaded boards, the village crew, 
Still to their lord in clofer union drew I 
Ye rooms, where poets nurs'd their golden dreams; 
Where flatefmen fram'd their country's glorious 
fchemes j 



( Mi ) 

Where wits their brilliant rays were wont to dart; 
And Beauty's radiant forms to melt the heart ! 
Shall the coarfe upftart wretch, who never knew 
A thought beyond the figur'd fpells, that drew 
The needy to Deftruction's net, difplay, 
Within your facred walls, a fcoundrel's prey; 
New fentiments; new modes of life unfold, 
Corrupt with luxury, andblaft with gold! — 
Great God of Mercy ! fince it is a crime, 
To end this wretched life before its timej 
If the dire fiends at yonder gate I view, 
Be not mad Fancy's forms, but fhapes too true, 
O now direct the pitying dart of Death, 
And in my native forefts clofe my breath !" 



( U2 ) 



LINES EY A.F. 



ON THE TIMES. 



FROM A NOVEL, l?QS. 



Black (cowls the iky; defcends the drizzling rain; 
In mournful tones the hollow winds complain ; 
And over every fcene her fable wings 
The fombre goddefs Melancholy flings. 
My bofom catches the contagious woe; 
And fadnefs only from my lips will flow. 
Where are my youthful dreams, my joyous days, 
My name with honours crown'd, my head with bays- 
Fled,, like all virions! — Vaniih'd is the veil; 
And what a group behind of fpeclres pale, 
Grim-vifag'd ihapes, and grinning forms, appear! 
See broken-hearted Grief, and trembling Fear; 
And wan Neglect, and thivering Want, and Scorn, 
And black-brow'd, blood-ftain'd Malice; Shame 

forlorn ; 
And iron-fang'd Extortion; and mad Strife; 
Hold the fole fway o'er every path of life ! 



( MS ) 

O whither mall I bend my aching eyes! 
Where fhall I find lefs frightful profpects rife! 
From fcenes of private forrow let me turn, 
The comforts of the public weal to learn ! 
There bankrupt nations; bleeding monarchs there 5 
And famine end the people murders fpare — 
Cities laid low there civil difcord fcourge, 
And Ruin o'er the whole her ploughihare urge, 
Affrighted I behold ! — and fiialve with awe, 
As the dire daemons near and nearer draw ! — 
My Country, O my Country ! that, fublime, 
Haft borne thy head above the waves of time, 
Which, as they beat againft thy mighty mores, 
New bulwarks brought, in wifdom's added ftores! 
At length thy fate approaches : omens croak, 
And hollow founds portend the coming ftroke; 
Trembles the ground; and hideous birds of prey 
Crofs us by fits, and fhrieks of joy betray! — 
— Chiefs in command, who would outftand the ftorni, 
And call new props, and new defences form, 
Beware, ye though tlefs, how ye draw your aid 
From quarters, which, if weak and open laid, 
New breaches to the furious blaft will fhew, 
Till unfufpeded comes deftruclion's blow. 
Props of the ftate, your ancient gentry gone, 
By whom, in eafy cords of union drawn, 



( iu ) 

A virtuous ufcful peafantry, content, 
Their toils induitrious to the public lent; 
From whom, the mind enlarg'd, the lofty foul, 
By birth and ftudy freed from bafe controul 
Of griping avarice, and felfifh gain, 
Rifes, a fenate's glory to maintain, 
What fhall the lofs fupply ? — From yonder feas, 
Mark the gay veffel drive before the breeze; 
See on the (hore the gorgeous Nabob land ; 
The wealthy cargo blackens all the ftrand ; — 
Oh mark! the fallow wretch, tho' drefs'd fo gay, 
Leaves prints of blood he cannot wafti away ! 
He comes to feed our wants, our lands to buy; 
Of making laws the labor to fupply; 
Gold palaces to build, and wide to throw 
The doors of feaft, and revelry, and (how; 
The narrow bounds of neighbourhood deftroy, 
And thro' a county fpread the general joy ! 
Nor yet contented: left Pro fu (ion pour 
Too deeply from th' incalculable ftore, 
Plutus * he re-invokes; and now to kings 
His loans of millions the fharp ufurer brings, 

* Late events will probably make the intelligent reader 
fmile at this. — But Avarice frequently defeats itfelf — 200,000 1. 
gained by a tingle fpeculation, added to poffeffions already 
amounting to 300,000 1. — and all funk in the fathomlefs abyfs 
of this demon ! Yet such things are / 23 Feb. 1 7£9. 



( 145 ) 

Till what exhaufted India's fhrieking plain 
With- rapine, famine, and with blood to gain, 
Seem like light baubles, which his fcorn excite, 
To think they e'er could fill his appetite !■ — 
Then wakes the lute of Merriment again, 
And breathes feduction o'er the liftening plain j 
Then healthy Competence, and Labor ftrong, 
Lords of themfelves no more, admire the fongj 
And village-beauty, for the charms of drefs, 
Yields to the fwarthy wretch a loath'd carefs. 
The echoing hall, which pendant honours grace, 
For many an age the trophies of the chace, 
And prouder ftill, the mighty fpoils of war, 
Won in old days with many a glorious fear,. 
Defpis'd,. deferted, and the homely board, 
Which once could hofpitable joys afford, 
Scorn'd, till the generous heart, to fame a prey, 
Gpes all its veins, and bleeds its life away — 
The echoing hall, in many a fragment rude 
Wide o'er the weed-grown dreary vill is ftrew'dj 
And fields, that nurs'd heroic chiefs, and fed 
Full many a hardy foldier, whom they led, 
No more at induitry's or honor's call, 
Lifelefs to the all-grafping monfter fall ! — 
Then, proud, the new-fprung lord in bloated power 
O'er a whole county bids his palace tower, 
L 



While as its glittering heights aflfail the iky, 
Thro' the wide tracks, beneath its ken that lie> 
Nought but the vile hut of the lonely hind, 
Rude and half-cloth'd, the fearching eye can find. 
At length the bubble burfts : th' aerial pile, 
Built on the bafis of extorted toilj 
Of trade, where after all the peril o'er, 
Another comes, and feizes half the (lore, — ■ 
Sinks,— and the tight-drawn cord of union broke, 
Kingdoms mill headlong at a fingle ftroke! 



$ 147 > 



LINES 

«G THE MEMORY OF A DECEASED FRIEND* 
FROM A NOVEL, 1802?. 

Departed Spirit ! While the grave contains 
Within its chill embrace thy poor remains, 
Thou, if the groveling wanderers here below 
May aught of future fate prefume to know,. 
Pure, and by intellectual toils refin'd, 
The choirs of heavenly habitants haft join'd X 
Look downwards, and behold with pitying eye 
The ftrngglers in this vale of mifery! 
In ftrength unequal ftill behold thy friend 
With power unjuft, and perjur'd wealth contend 
O'er his tumultuous bEeaft thy influence fpread, 
And bring foft tlumbers to his reftlefs bed y 
With fortitude infpire him to withftand 
Terror's loud threat, Oppreffion's iron hand y 
And yet undaunted, where his caufe is true>. 
E'en in the face of Ruin, Right purfue t 
L2 



( 148 ) 

Perchance thou hear' ft him notj — thou may'fl not 

hear! 
Alone, unaided, I am doom'd to bear 
The worldly trial ! Holy Shade, adieu! 
Be mine to drefs thy grave with garlands newj 
And oft the turf to moifien with my tears; 
"While frefh thy once-lov'd form again appears, 
And thy foft voice feems, waken'd from the tomb,. 
To footh with Wifdom's lore my mournful doom I 



• 



( 149 ) 



LINE 5 



WRITTEN IN THE CHARACTER OF THE HERO O^ 
A NOVEL, 1802. 



In this £1111 vale, where o'er my deep repofe 
The murmuring wind its drowfy rnuiic blows ; 
Where thro' the day my half-clos'd eyelids view 
Forms flit before them of enchanted hue, 
Which yet unheeded on my lazy mind, 
Pafs like a cloud, and leave no track behind ; 
At friendmip's call I flill my voice muft raife, 
Sieze the negle&ed pen, and tune my lays ! 
But where's the fire, that bade my boyifn bread, 
Till Fame's high hill was mounted, never reft? 
Feebly it burns, tho' Age's vapoury cloud 
Has not begun its dying fires to fliroud ; 
Nor yet the tottering pace, the hoary hair, 
The wither'd current of my blood declare. 
Over its mounting heat Difgufl has fhed 
Cold drops of poifon, and the blaze is fled; 
And Difappointment touch'd it, and it fhrunk; 
And Grief's pale clouds o'erfhadow'd, and it funk! 



( 150 ) 

"By foes fo numerous prefs'd, ah, when again 
Will its gay fpirit prompt th' impaflion'd drain ? 
Perchance, O never !— But the awful clofe 
Of life will bring me to the grave's repofe, 
And ftill this trembling Heart, and veil thefe eyes, 
From whence too oft the flafh of Anger flies, 
Ere Hope once more the chearful hours illume ; 
Or Fancy once again difpel the gloom ! 
Bat e'en amid thefe chilling damps I crave 
One fprig of laurel for my early grave! 
Still I afpire not quite unknown to die, 
While Friendfhip's aid fhall partial tears fupply. 
Thefe idle lays then, which the vacant hour 
Can by a feeble half-fram'd effort pour, 
Wilt thou, receive, my Henry 5 nor require 
Where Grief incumbent fits, the Mufe's fire? 
But, hark ! the lulling murmur of the blaft. 
That footh'd my fancy's languid dreams, is paft! 
Loud was that fhriek, that came acrofs the grove ! 
See, how the forefl's trembling honours move ! 
Halte ! let me feek old Ocean's foamy fhore j 
And liften to the big wave's gathering roar! 
O, how I love the fighting billows' roll ; 
How the loud tumult fuits my troubled foul ! 
I feem once more my wonted fire to gain; 
And without effort comes the impaffion'd {train ! 



( 151 ) 

On the tall cliff's tremendous verge. I lie, 

And watch the clashing waves that threat the fky j 

"While from afar I trace the fwelling furge, 

Near and more near the wat'ry mountain urge; 

Till forc'd againft the oppofing land, that quakes 

E'en to its very inmoft bafe, it breaks ; 

And with a found, that feems to make the world, 

Thro' air, earth, fea, the wat'ry mafs is hurl'd. 

Thefe are the mighty fcenes my fpirit loves: 
I hate the peaceful glen, the murmuring groves! 
The ftockdoves plaintive note, the nightingale, 
That to the happy lover tells her tale, 
Suit not the chaos of a ftormy breaft, 
Whom injuries have wrong'd, and woes opprefl ! 

Afk you, my friend, then, when delights like thefe 
My wounded foul no longer finds to pleafe, 
What foothes me next ? To fee thro' gloomy night 
The forked lightning dart its fiery light ! 
Or in fome rocking tower the temped brave; 
And hear the land-ftorm thro' the foreft rave; 
While the wan Moon, that darknefs long enfhrouds, 
Breaking by fits from out the driving clouds, 
Difplays the tolling waters of the lake, 
That lafh its mores, and all its boundaries make ! 
Then, as at length, the rifing waves o'erleap 
The yielding banks, and pour down every fteep, 



( 152 ) 

I hear the roaring tumult, and behold 
Thro' woods and plains the foaming torrent roll'd, 
And as each ray the fpreading wreck reveals, 
A gloomy joy my grief-torn bofom feels* ! 

And doft thou blame me, Henry f Let not Eafe 
'Taunt him, whom Sorrows and Misfortunes feize! 
O ye, who down the ftream of pleafure ride, 
Wafted with filken fails along the tide; 
Whom no winds agitate, no dangers try. 
Judge not, ye vain, the child of Mifery ! 
Him wilder joys for nobler efforts form 5 
In danger moll to fhine, and glory in the ftorm! 

* See an extraordinary coincidence of fentrments, and al- 
moft of exprcffion?, in parts of this poem, with fome pafiages 
in p. 97 of Dr. Currie's moft interesting and excellent Life of 
Burns, which the author never faw till (22 June isoi) two 
days before this fheet was fent him to correct from the prefsj 
having before only feen the extracts from that delightul pub- 
lication, which were inferted in the Reviews. 



( 153 ) 



A POETICAL FRAGMENT 

ON A DESERTED MANSION, THE SUPPOSED PLACE 

OF NATIVITY OF THE PERSON IN WHOSE 

CHARACTER IT IS WRITTEN. 



Ah ! poor deferted folitary dome ! 

Thou waft, tho' now fo dreary, once my home! 

From thefe lov'd windows was I wont to mark 

The fwain at noontide crofs the chcarful park$ 

And oft as penfive eve began to draw 

O'er the fweet fcene her fhadowy veil, I faw 

The weary woodman thro' the twilight pace, 

His hearth's domeftic circle to embrace ! 

Unnoticed now his mournful path he treads j 

No cafual ray thy gloomy window fheds; 

From thy chill halls no clouds of fmoke appears 

No found of human habitant is here. 

The angry fpirits of the wind alone 

Shriek thro' thy rooms and 'mid thy turrets groan 3 

While the poor villager, who wont to flay, 

And near this fpot to linger on his way, 



( 154 ) 

TSTow pafTes fearful on, nor looks around, 
Starts at each bough ; and quakes at every found I 
With trembling footsteps I approach thy gates; 
The marly door upon the hinges grates; 
Hark ! as it opens, what an hollow groan 
'Crofs the dark hall and down the aides is thrown! 
Still as each lov'd apartment I explore, 
The ghofts glide by of joys that are no more ; 
Cold tremors feize my frame, and to my heart 
Defpair's chill ihafts in clouds of forrow dartl 
O where are all the crew, whofe focial powers 
Speeded beneath thefe roofs my youthful hours'. 
Some near yon fane, beneath the turfy mound, 
From worldly cares have early quiet found; 
Wide o'er the globe difperfed the reft are teen; 
Vaft lands extend, deep oceans roll between. 
Some in the burning funs of Ana toil 
I'o win deceitful Fortune's gaudy fmile j 
Some in the battle's perils fpend their breath, 
And grafp at honour in the arms of death ; 
On Egypt's fandy plains, or 'mid the crew 
Of mad rebellion ftill their courfe purfuej 
Some to the gentler arts of peace apply, 
Or with the gown's or fenate's labours vie; 
Watch with the moon thro' midnight's tranquil hour, 
Learning's exhauftlefs volumes to explore j 



( 155 ) 

=Or paint bright Fancy's (hadowy fliapes, which throng 
Before the raptured fight, in living fong, 
While fondly as the fairy firucture grows 
With hope of endlefs fame the bofom glows. 

But where are they, whofe fofter forms difplayM 
Beauty in all the charms of youth array'd ? 
Which firft the breaft with love's emotion fill'd, 
And with new joys the dove-wing'd moments thrill'd? 
Here glimmer'd firft, amid a thoufand wiles, 
Thro' the deep blum, affection's purple fmilesj 
In murmurs died the voices melting tone, 
And the heart throbb'd with foftnefs yet unknown. 
On yonder lawn, in yonder tangled made, 
Till twilight ftole upon our joys, we played; 
Danced on the green, or with affected race 
Purfued thro' winding walks the wanton chafe; 
Or fat on banks of flowers, and told fome tale 
Where haplefs lovers o'er their fate bewail j 
Or bad foft echo from her moffy feat 
The floating mufic of their fongs repeat! 
Ye dear companions of my boyith days, 
Fair idols of my vows and of my lays, 
O whither are ye gone ? what varied fate 
Has heaven decreed your riper years to wait ? 
, The bloom of youth no longer paints your cheeks j 
In your foft eyes gay hope no longer fpeaks; 



( 156 ) 

'Bright as the hyacinthine rays of Morn 

Your cheeks no more the auburn locks adorn! 

Some in the difiant fhades of privacy 

"With watchful looks a mother's care fupply ; 

•Some in the realms of fafhion feed their pride, 

Wafted on diffipation's vapoury tide : 

And fome alas ! ere yet the filver hair 

And tottering footfteps warn'd them to prepare, 

Of life's vain courfe have clofed the fickle race, 

And fudden funk in chilling death's embrace ! 

But happy they, who, in the quiet grave, 
The world's relentlefs ftorms no more muft brave; 
For here no more had childhood's pure delights 
iBlefs'd their fweet days, and hover'd o'er their nights; 
Here cruel fate had early clofed the door, 
That opens to the voice of joy no more; 
And ftill, where'er the wretched exiles ftray'd, 
Black Care had gloom'd their fteps, and Fraud 

betray'd; 
And Envy fcowl'd upon their faireft deeds; 
And Calumny, that curfed fiend, who feeds 
With moll delight on thofe, who moft afpire 
To win pure fame by virtue's holier! fire, 
Had damp'd the ardor of the generous bread, 
And glory's kindling vi (ions had fuppreft !— 



( 157 ) 

The grave contains them now : beneath a heap 
Of mouldering turf in filent reft they ileep, 
Till the dread day when founds the trump of fate, 
And all with trembling. hope their doom muft wait*. 

O ye deep fhadowy walks ; ye foreft-dells, 
Where folitude with inmoft myftery dwells! 
Again I hail you! From the leaf ftrown earth 
Virions of happy infancy fpring forth 
At every ftep I tread j and to my heart 
A momentary ray of joy impart : 
But ah ! how foon, with prefent ills combin'd, 
The dreadful contrail ftrikes the wounded mind ! 
The clock that fent its undulating founds 
With deep ton'd ftroke thro' all your diftant bounds 
From yonder lofty tower, is filent now j 
Silent the horn, that on yon airy brow, 
Blew its thrill notes thro' all your calm retreats, 
And rous'd the Nymphs and Dryads from their feats t, . 
And call'd fweet Echo, bidding her prolong 
Thro' hill and grove and vale the chearful long.; 
Still is the breath of him who wak'd the horn ; 
The mafter's tongue, who did thefe fcenes adorn^ 
Is filent in the duftj no more his voice 
Bids the deep coverts of your woods rejoice; 
No more the ruftics' grateful breafts he chears, 
Nor wipes from Poverty her bitter tears j 



( 158 ) 

No more around hurt draws the eager cry 
Of prattling childhood, to attract his eye, 
From whence the rays of love and kindnefs fly? 
No more his lips pronounce the awful tone 
Of wifdom, and inrtru£t the bad to moan 
Their guilty courfe; and virtue ftill to bear 
The load of life with fortitude and prayer! 
Beneath the pavement of yon humble fane 
Low in the earth his mouldering bones remain. 
Mem'ry fhall o'er the fpot her vigils keep, 
And Friendship and AfTedtion long fhall weep y 
And he, who now attempts, in fimple lays, 
His honour'd fame fo weakly to emblaze, 
Shall never ceafe, till life its current frays, 
To love, to fpeak, to view with idol eyes, 
His merits kindling as they upward rife ! 

O what a fudden gloom, invefts the heaven ! 
Black clouds acrofs the fair expanfe are driven:- 
No found is heard ; fave where a cafual breeze 
Shakes off the ruffling leaves from faded trees. 
Hark ! what a gull was that ! a fearful moan; 
Along the dark'ning forett feems to groan. 
Ye holy fpirits of my buried fires, 
Still e'en in death furvive your wonted fires ? 
Still hovering round your once lov'd earthly walks.,. 
Is it your voice that in the breezes talks.}. 



( 159 ) 

To him who fighs o'er all your glories gone* 
Who weeps your fcatter'd grove, your ruin'd lawn j 
Who views with burfting heart your falling towers, 
And fills with loud lament your ravag'd bowers 5 
To him, perchance your guardian cares extend j 
O'er him perchance with favouring voice ye bend! 
O hear me, fainted beings of the air, 
One fign, ye fmile upon my efforts, fpare! 
That guft again! louder it feem'd to move, 
Ruining acrofs the center of the grove h 
Sure 'tis the fignal that ye come at lad 
To calm my breaft, and foothe my forrows pafts 
For long Misfortune's baleful hand has fpread 
Her iron tortures round my luckiefs head. 



Ca.tera defunt. 






( 160 ) 



To Miss L. L. of I— JZ>.* 



©N THE AUTHOR'S DEPARTURE, 26. JUNE, 1/83, 



Thou fweet gentle maiden, ere yet I depart, 

Wilt thou hear the fond feelings, that rife in my 

heart ? 
Wilt thou hear me, by ail that is holy, declare 
That no time from my memory thine image fhall 

wear ? 
No : when I forget thee, may Fancy expire, 
And mine awkward hands fail to command the foffc 

lyre ! 
Ah, Lucy! Say wilt thou be pleas'd with thefe 

vows, 
From a youth on whom Fortune nobleffings beftows? 
{from a poor fimple youth, for the world much 

too fliy, 
Who from notice of great ones, and rich ones doth 

fly; 

• Firit published in Gent, Mag. Jan. 1284. 






( 161 ) 

Who mines not in circles, nor buttle enjoys, 
But loves the far valley, remote from all noife? 
Ah, wilt thou above the vain (hew and parade, 
Whofe dazzle too often thy fex has betray'd, 
Of a fond faithful lover not fcornfully deem, 
Who has nought but his lyre to engage thy efteem? 
Ah, Lucy! I've thought, bat perhaps I was wrong, 
When I prefs'd thy foft hand, (and the pleafure no 

tongue 
Can e'en faintly defcribe, that then thrill'd thro' my 

frame) 
I have thought that thou didft not my happinefs 

blame ! 
When I've gaz'd on thy face, (and Heav'n knows I 

have gaz'd, 
Till the tears of delight I fcarce hid, that it rais'd) 
I have thought, but perhaps I'm deceiv'd, that the 

love, 
Which my eyes ill concealed, thou didft not reprove! 

Ah, me ! the fad moment of parting is near, 
When thefe exquifite joys I no longer may fhare j 
When no more I with thee the fwift hours may be- 
guile, 
And hear thy fweet converfe, and blefs thy foft fmile; 
When no more thy dear arm upon mine e'er will lean, 
As we homeward return by the mild light of E'en -, 
M 



( 162 ) 

When no more I may have the enjoyment divine, 
To fit for whole hours with thy hand within mine ! 

Ah, fay, deareft Lucy ! from thee when I go, 
What pleafure, that's equal to thefe, fhall I know ? 
— I mult fly to thick fhadesj and there wander 

alone, 
And brood on the thoughts of delights that are gone ! 



( ■!« ) 



DIRGE, 1783. 



The preceding lines having been faid to be the production of 
a fictitious perfon, this Dirge was written upon his fup- 
pofed death. 



Ye Virgins, come, meet round his tomb, 
And fcatter wild flowers on the ground j 

O footh, with a tear for his doom, 
His fpirit, that hovers around I 






II. 

Oft he faid, that with pleafure he'd die, 
From your eyes if 'twould gain him a tear j 

And furely ye will not deny, 
Now he's gone, fuch a due to his bier ! 

III. 

Come, " Peace to his afties," invoke, 

For to fing of your charms was his pride! 

His heart was fo tender, it broke; 
And he blefi'd you, for you tho' he died 1 
M 2 



( 164 ) 



IV. 



By yon little fpire, from the glade 

Peeping forth, where he oft was infpir'd, 

His pale bones in quiet are laid, 

From the world's evil haunts far retir'd ! 

V. 

Yes, quiet he lov'd, while on earth j 

From all tumult and noife he would fly : 

May no worldling with unhallow'd mirth 
Approach where his afhes do lie I 

VI. 

Sweet Virtue with fondnefs he priz'd, 

From her paths tho' he fometimes might ftrayj 

Yet Vice from his foul he defpifedj 
And his mind was as pure as the day. 

VII. 

Ye Maids of the village, draw near; 

O drop a foft tear on the ground ! 
And Friendship, foft Friendship, appear j 

And, Fairies, come gather around I 




( 1«5 ) 



VIII. 



Ye Maids, and ye Friends, in the light, 
From infult protect his cold grave ! 

And, ye Fairies, from harms of the night, 
O lend your affirmance to fave! 



( l« ) 



THE GAMEKEEPER'S RETURN AT NIGHT. 



WRITTEN IN 1802. 



Thro* the long morning have I toil'd 

O'er heath and lonely wood, 
And crofs the dark untrodden -glen, 

The fearful game purfu'd : 
But deeper now the gathering clouds 

Colled along the iky, 
And, faint and weary, warn my fteps 

Their homeward courfe to hie. 



II. 

And now the driving mill withdraws 
Her grey and vapoury veil 5 

I mark again the facred tower 
I paffed in yonder dais : 



( 16 7 ) 

A little while and I fhall gain 
Yon hill's laborious height; 

And then perhaps my humble cot 
Will chear my grateful light ! 

III. 

Ah now I fee the fmoke afcend 

From forth the glimmering thatch j 
Now my heart beats at every ftep ; 

And now I lift the latch; 
Now ftarting from my blazing hearth 

My little children bound, 
And loud with Ihrill and clamorous joy 

Their happy lire furround. 



IV. 



How fweet when night firft wraps the world 

Beneath her fable veft, 
To lit beiide the crackling lire, 

With weary limbs at reft ; 
And think on all the labours paft 

That morn's bright hours employ 'd; 
While all, that toil and danger feem'd, 

Is now at home enjoy'd. 



"■■■ 



( 168 > 



V. 



The wild and fearful diftant fcene, 

Lone covert, whiftling ilorm, 
Seem now in memory's mellowing eye 

To wear a fofter form} 
And while my wand'rings I defcribe^ 

As froths the nut-brown ale, 
My dame and little lift'ning tribe 

With wonder hear the tale ! 



VI. 

Then foft enchanting flu-mbers calm 

My heavy eyelids clofe, 
And on my humble bed I fink 

To moft profound repofe j 
Save that by fits the fcenes of day 

Come glancing on my fight, 
And, touch'd by fancy's magic wand, 

Seem vifions of delight ! 



( 1^9 ) 



VERSES 



FROM A NOVEL, 1802. 



I. 

Now mournfully whittles the wind o'er the grove, 
And the leaves grown all yellow fubmit totheblafl; 

Ah ! fee on the lawn how in eddies they move! 
Half the fhades of the foreft already are caft. 

II. 

Clouds dark and deprefling inveft all the fky, 

And by fits crofs the vale do the drizzling rains drivej 

In vain then to check from my bofom the figh, 
In vain from my tongue the complaint, mall I ftrivel 

III. 

Negle&ed, traduc'd, and to malice a prey, 
I bow to the fullen dominion of grief, 

And tho' long I could charm the dire tyrant away, 
Oblivion alone can now give me relief. 



( i/o ) 



IV. 

My days, my fhort days, tho' my youth is not fled, ■ 
Already too furely I feel on the wane ; 

And, ere yet the grey hairs round my temples hav« 
fpread, 
Forgot in the grave will my afties have lain ! 



( W ) 



ELLEN ST. AUBUST. 



A FRAGMENT OF A POETICAL ROMANCE, 



In Richard's days, when many a war-worn knight. 
From blood-ftain'd fields of battles loft and won, 
Where Europe's troops, array'd in armour bright, 
Unfurl'd the banner'd crofs before the fun, 
Weary return'd, their race of glory run, 
The remnant of their days to fpend at laft 
In thofe calm manfions where their lives begun ^ 
Where they might mufe upon their perils pari:, 
And on the gloom of age foft fmiles their children ca% 

II. 

Amid the throng St. Aubin's Baron came, 
A man, whofe generous heart and valiant hand 
In Salem's fields had gain'd immortal fame : 
Two years had gone, lince firft he led his band 



( m ) 

From Cantia's vallies to the hallow'd land, 
Stain'd by the infidel's unholy crew -, 
And left his lovely child's careffes bland j 
His weeping wife's belov'd embraces flew, 
Mid war on diftant plains to feek for danger new. 



III. 



Forth with the peer a neighb'ring chieftain's heir, 
Young Edmund, who had long for action pin'd, 
Sallied, the darts of glorious death to dare, 
And laurels round his boyifh brow to bind. 
A youth he was of truly noble mind, 
Which in a form as noble was encas'd ; 
Bold as the lion, though as Pity kind j 
Oft in his fancy he the foe had chas'd, 
Then in his early dreams the goddefs Fame embrac'd. 



IV. 



Soon as the long array began to move, 
Joy in his mien, impatience in his eye, 
Long his triumphant looks to hide he ftrove : 
Yet when the beauteous Ellens form came nigh, 






( 173 ) 

Ellen,, St. Aubin's only hope, the figh 
Rofe from his inmoft heart; the long farewell 
The trickling tears could only now fupply : 
Nor dar'd he on futurity to dwell, 
Nor could the rifing thoughts of paft enjoyments quell. 



Sweet days, how blifsful, did they know their blifs \ 
The days of childhood paft in pure delight j 
Th' unfeigned fmile, the unimpaffion'd kifs, 
The tear that every toy can put to flight, 
The carelefs day, and the unruffled night! 
Can ever Edmund, by the battle's fpoils, 
The lofs of genuine joys like thefe requite? 
Where is the palm that equals Ellen's fmiles ? 
Ah ! where is the reward that thus repays his toils ? 



VI. 

Yet e'en in Ellen's fmiles of late infus'd 
A little bitter ting'd the cup of joy; 
For on her form no more at eafe he mus'd, 
Nor with her lily hand could fafely toy 1 



( 174 ) 

When abfent, flill her image would employ 
His-reftlefs fancy — — — — — 



* 



VII. 

Nor could the prieft, a proud and gloomy foul, 
Who in the neighbouring abbey dwelt at eafe, 
Who oft in vain had ftriven to controul 
The fallies that a lively fpirit feize, 
The wanton raptures of the boy appeafe : 
Nor could the youth conceal th' indignant rage 
Of generous anger, when the prieft, to teaze 
The fweet effufions of a tender age, 
The dear enchantment chill'd with taunts and maxims 
fage. 

VIII. 

Glad had the holy father feen him go; 
And though with outward pomp and formal prayer 
He fought of Heaven its bleflings to beftow, 
And make the gallant youth its chofen care, 

* An unfinished ftanza. 






( 175 ) 

Deep in his heart the inward hate he bare; 
And while he alk'd aloud that he the wreath 
Of future glorious victories might wear, 
His kindeft with was, he might clofe his breath 
In diftant eaftern fields by honourable death. 



IX. 

Many a fell danger, many an onfet fierce 
Had the bold chief endur'd with dauntlefs mind: 
Yet ftill affection's anxious cares would pierce 
His inmofl. heart for thofe he left behind. 
Nor had th' array and din of war confm'd 
His bufy thoughts to Aria's crowded plains ! 
For his dear nuptial partner oft he pin'd; 
Oft in his fancy's eye his daughter reigns; 
And oft with tears his cheeks her rifing image flains. 



X. 



•• O Heaven," he pray'd, "protect my faithful wife, 
While now I fight with thy Barbarian foes ! 
Prolong her virtuous and inflructive life 
To foothe my little Ellen's childilh woes; 



( 176 ) 

To nourifh every virtuous thought that grows 
In her young bofom, and to guard her heart 
From the vile hidden thorns that interpofe 
Too oft in outward flowers their cruel dart. 
And wounds, no future balm can e*er remove, impart!' 



xr. 

But Heaven or heard not, or Heaven thought not fit 
To grant the fond requeft : the mother died ) 
As the Ian: pangs forewarn'd her, (he muft quit 
Her lovely charge, "My deareft child," me cried, 
*' I go commanded hence j and be thy pride 
To mew thy mother's cares have not been vain! 
Let tendered duty all thy actions guide ; 
And when Heaven's mercy o'er the fearful main 
Sears thy lov'd father fafe, his drooping age fuftaiii t 



XII. 

The mournful tidings many a weary day, 
And many a tedious month were paffing flow; 
Ere yet to end his doubts they found their way, 
And ftruck a fatal, e'en though lingering blow. 



( 177 ) 

She, who, his hopes had whifpefd, would befiow 
The crown on all his toils, in filent reft 
Was with the dwellers of the grave laid low ; 
And all the dreams of future joys, that bleft 
■His fanguine fancy, fled from his defponding breaft. 

XIII. 

i But time, and bufy fcenes began to calm 
His bofom's waves : Affection fond the form 
Of his fweet child recall'd, to pour a balm 
Into his wounds, and once again to warm 
;His hopes, o'erwhelm'd in Sorrow's chilly ftorm : 
And when at length, with wreaths of glory bound, 
Weary he left the tented field's alarm, 
To feek for reft on Europe's diftant ground, 

New hopes in Ellen's fmiles his riling fancy found. 



XIV. 

Now fafely landed on his native more, 
Many a long mile the penfive Baron pae'd, 
And now o'er diftant well-known hills once more 
His caftles glittering towers he faintly trae'd: 

N 



( 178 ) 

Joy at the fight and Fear alternate chas'd 
Each other through his palpitating breaft : 
Now gay in youth a daughter he embrac'd; 
And now, as boding glooms his mind oppreft, 
His child a lifelefs corfe his longing arms careft. 






XV. 

Bolder the turrets rear'd their frowning height, 
And more diftin6t the crofs-fign'd flag difplay'd 
Its flapping ftreamers to the approaching fight: 
With beating hearts his little train, array 'd 
In order due, each tedious Hep upbraid; 
Till now arriv'd within its inmort bound 
The very courts their happy Heps invade; 
The horfe's hoofs upon the drawbridge found, 
And the loud trumpet brays the mighty walls around. 



XVI. 

Forth fallies from the hall the beauteous maid., 
And trembling kneels before her father's feet ; 
Her dreaming eyes her tender joy betray 'd, 
And her tongue faulter'd, and refus'd to greet 



( 179 ) 

Her long-loft parent : but her lips repeat 
The holy kifs, as, in his arms embrac'd, 
The weeping Baron's dear careffes meet 
Fondnefs unfeign'd, and all the raptures chafte 
Of pure unmingled love a lire and daughter tafte. 



XVII. 

Now rings the hall with feftive rights infpir'dj 
Down the long tables, rang'd on every fide. 
The war-worn crew, with new fprung fpirit fir' d, 
Their cares and toils and dangers paft deride j 
And still as they repeat their travels wide 
To lift'ning trains who greet their glad return. 
They long again to ftem the fpreading tide 
Of mighty oceans, and again they burn 
In diftant eaftern climes th' aflailing foe to turn. 



XVIII. 

High at the top the lovely Ellen fits, 
While her glad father with uncheck'd delight 
Hangs on her tender fmiles, and oft by fits 
As the bold youth indulge their raptur'd fight, 
• N 2 



( iso ) 

Temper' d by diftance, at the glances bright 
Of her illumin'd face, her idol-form 
Sinks in their hearts, and e'en her looks requite 
The perils of the battle, and the ftorm; 
Then wonder, love, and awe at once their bofoms warm. 



XIX. 

Night came j and (oil of body and of mind, 
And fpirits with a thonfand feelings worn, 
The Baron's aged frame had foon confign'd 
To {lumbers deep and found j but ere the morn 
Had climb' d the iky, he wak'd ; and all forlorn 
In that lov'd bed the partner of his days 
Was wont to prefs, he found his bofom torn 
With pangs reviv'd, which keener tortures raife ; 
And Grief's new-covered fires with double fury blaze. 



XX. 

His daughter's foothing voice, and fweet carefs 
Could ill his agonizing forrow quell, 
Though much he ftrove their tumults to reprcfs, 
And veil in fmiles the trickling tears which fell 



( 181 ) 

Adown his furrow'd cheeks, and fpoke fo well 
What rankling wounds affection's breaft can fling! 
How vain the attempt to charm the folemn knell, 
That ftill in Love's immerfed ear will ring, 
E'en though a deareft child her foft enchantment bring? 



XXI. 

Yet (till, as glided peaceful days along, 
A calm began to deal upon his heart j 
At Ellen's youthful wiles, at Ellen's fong 
A ray of cheerful light was feen to dart 
Acrofs his gloomy looks, and thence impart 
Balm to his thoughts, and from his feeble frame 
Drive by degrees Regret's confuming fmartj 
Of thrilling joy to fpread the tender flame; 
And back to earthly fcenes his far-fled hopes reclaim. 



XXII. 

Lovelier each hour the blooming maiden grew 3 
Her form with more luxuriant beauty glow'd j 
Her foft cheeks wore a more enchanting hue ; 
Nor had ft thou, Nature, though thy bounty iliow'd 



( 182 ) 

An outward fhape fo perfect, lefs beftow'd 
In the full gifts of her accompliih'd mind; 
There melting Sentiment had found abode ; 
There Fancy's rich creations were defign'd j 
There mimic Memory kept her brilliant forms enfhrind. 

XXIII. 

O'er his dear charge the rapt St. Aubin hung, 
Witn love the Mufe herfelf can ill exprefs; 
Each morn, in hatte impatiently he fprung 
With Ellen's fmiles his longing fight to blefsj. 
Each morn within his fond embrace to prefs 
Her, who on earth was now his only care; 
Whofe form ador'd e'en if with rude carefs 
The airs of Heaven mould vifit, he his prayer 
With tears would upward urge his idol child to 
fpare ! !— 



C&iera dejimt. 



( 183 ) 



ELEGY, 



tJlOM A NOVEL, 1803. 



That ftrain was true; and Fancy has the power 
To ftrew with rofes life's entangled ways : 

She to the poet's eye at midnight hour 
On his lone couch can winning Beauty raifel 

E'en now I wak'd from blifsful moments fraught 
With vifions, which I hail'd in tumults toft; 

Kils'd the lov'd obje£t, breath'd the tender thought, 
And gaz'd in rapture, till my fight was loft. 

But ah! how foon the envious dawn of day 
Scatters the fweet creation into air; 

And leaves the mourner by the foothing lay 
The dreary hours of reftlefs light to wear; 



( 184 ) 

To weep his portion of unmixed grief, 
For vanifh'd hopes, and real woes to figh 5 

In falfe companions fearch for vain relief, 

And meet with pangs, where'er his footfteps fiy ! 

If this is life, O may the quiet grave 

To his worn bofom bring a long repofe; 

For little longer can it firmly brave 

The florm, that in each gathering conflict grows. 

Ah j fare! he feels that foon his weary frame 
Will find a calm beneath its parent earth, 

Where vainly Malice will infult his name, 
While Friendmip fan6tifies his humble worth. 

But whofe the tears that will embalm his fhriner 
Will the fweet maiden, whofe ingenuous eyes 

Full oft have fhone with pity's beams divine, 
Weep, that in early youth her favourite dies } 

For Ihe is foft, as is the vernal rofe 

When full its bofom is of morning dew; 

And her dear fnowy bread with kindnefs glows, 
Sweet as the flowers that Summer's pathwayftrew. 



( 185 ) 

E'en now his thoughts on her with rapture dwell, 
Gaze on her trembling form, her blufhing cheek j 

And her lov'd beauties to the breezes tellj 

Thofe charms the confcious breezes will not fpeak: 

To her he breathes his fighs ; to her he talks, 
And 'mid the quiet of furrounding fhades 

Revels at eafe with her in lonely walks, 

Where ne'er the world's intrufive eye invades. 

Yes; fuch is Fancy's pow'r; me lifts her wand, 

And all around us fairy virions play : 
Nor muft we blame her, if at her command 

Life's gloom is gilded by a tranfietit ray. 



( 185 ) 



LINES 






On the figure of a "Warrior, drefled in Feudal Armour, hia 
fhield adorned with an ancient heraldric coat; a Baronial 
castle in the back ground, on the higheft tower of which 
is difplayed a banner, bearing the fame infigniaj drawn and 
prefented to the Author by the Rev. C. W.* 



So ftione th' heroic chief in days of old; 
Fierce was his mien ; his limbs of giant mould; 
Beneath the load of cumbrous armour light, 
Active he bounded o th' infuriate fight; 
Broad was his fhiei with bold device impreft, 
And on his helmet frown'd the grimly creft: 
Yon moated caftle's mafly walls uprofe 
To frown defiance on his vaflals' foes; 

* One, who after one and thirty years of uninterrupted friend- 
fhip, and after having buffeted with the rage of the yellow fever 
in the Atlantic, and having afterwards vifited all the fhores of 
the Mediterranean, and witneffed the horrors and the glories of 
the tremendous night, which was illuminated by the battle of 
the Nile, is returned fafe to form one of the few props and com- 
forts of the author's life* 



( 187 ) 

And o'er that fhadowy foreft's wide domains, 
O'er thefe blue hills, and thofe extended plains, 
O'er many a fcatter'd vill, and many a town, 
He rul'd by right, by favour, or renown. 

Ferocious days, and days of wild alarm, 
Yet chear'd by many a joy, and many a charm, 
Which thefe degenerate times have loft. — For Power 
Dwelt with the chief, who own'd the Feudal Tower ! 
Lord of the generous arts, that win command, 
By noble counfel, or by valorous hand, 
He knew no rivals in the dastard knaves, 
Who fpring to wealth from Lucre's bafe-born flaves $ 
Who gain rich lands, and feed luxurious boards, 
By the vile modes, which groveling Trade affords ! 
Perchance fome Knight of more adventrous name 
His spirit's generous envy might enflame, 
One, on whofe breaft with more resplendent fire 
Beam'd the red crofs, or growi'd the lion's ire ; 
Who rode with ftatelier grace the prancing horfe, 
Or couch'd his quivering lance with mightier force! 
E'en tho ? his heaving bofom fweli'd with pain, 
Afpiring wreaths of equal worth to gain, 
Still in the grateful ftrife was glory mix'd, 
And Virtue's wifhes in his heart were fix'd : 
No wealthy fon of Commerce bade him hide 
Before fuperior pomp his lessen'd pride,, 









( iss ) 

Nor call'd him with infulting fneers to vie 
In the mean race of arts he icorn'd to try : 
Honour and rank and wealth he faw await 
Toils of the wife., and actions of the great 5 
Nor mark'd, where'er before his aching eyes 
Halls, manfions, caftles, palaces, arife, 
Wretches ufurp them, who in darkfome cells 
Won their bafe fpoils by Traffic's hated fpells ! 

Rude was the pile, that from th' impending brow 
Gf fome fleep rock upon the wave below 
Oft look'd with fearful grandeur; loud the blast 
Rav'd on its walls, and thro' its turrets part; 
Chill were its fanlefs rooms, and drear the aisles 
Along whofe length the night-breeze told her tales ; 
Maffive the walls, thro' which the genial day 
Strove with warm breath in vain to win its way : 
But jocund was its hall; and gay the feaft 
That fpoke the genuine gladness of the breaft, - 
When rang'd its hofpitable boards along, 
The warlike bands renew'd th' heroic fong; 
Or told wild-tales, or drank with greedy ear 
Romantic ditties which the Minftrel-Seer 
Tun'd to his harp, while, as with bolder fire 
He threw his rapturd hand acrofs the wire, 
With vifions of new glory beam'd each eye, 
And loud the gathering chorus role on high; 



( r*9 ) 

Till fnook the rafter'd roof, and every bound 
Of the wide caitle trembled with the found. 

Rough were the fcenes, as was the mailer's mind, 
Which Nature, bordering on th' abode, defign'd; 
Forefls of age untold, whofe unpierc'd wood 
Ne'er to the labourer's echoing axe had bow'd; 
Soft lawns, which mid farrounding coverts fpread, 
By the wild tenants of the fcene were fed ; 
Deep delis, with fern and brake, and twitted thorn, 
Thick-matted, whence the hunter's (brill-ton d horn 
Started th' elaflic deer, which, flung with fright, 
Swift as the viewlefs winds, purfued their flight; 
Loud torrents, rumbling as they won their courfe 
Thro' fretted rocks and winding banks by force; 
Or rills, that murmur' d mufic, as their race 
Thro' flowery vales they ran with even pace. 

When War's alarms no more around him rag'd, 
In fports amid thefe fcenes the Chief engag'd ; 
Sports, that became his hardy form ! — When Light 
Firft *gan to ftreak the flying mifts of Night, 
From his rough couch he fprung; his bugle blew, 
And round him each impatient hunter drew ; 
Then forth the deed of wondrous fwiftnefs came, 
And thro' the woods he fought th' affrighted game; 
From morn to eve, woods, plains, and vales and hills 
With the loud echo of his voice he fills; 



( 190 ) 

No toil fatigues him, and no danger stays j 
Perils the zeft of his amufement raife j 
Then home to gorgeous halls and blazing fires, 
Weary, yet pleas'd with exercife, retires j 
The feaft is fpread -, the war-clad walls along 
Rings the glad converfe, and rebounding fongj 
And when again the fable-mantled Night 
Far o'er the fky has urg'd her heavy flight, 
On the hard bed his giant limbs he throws, 
And finks ferenely into deep repofe! 
O age of luxury ! O days of eafe ! 
The reftlcfs, vigorous, foul ye ne'er can pleafe ! 
Within your ftagnant lakes Corruption breeds, 
And on your flowers vile fenfual Meannefs feeds ! 
As when foul pefts have gather d in the fky 
And o'er the globe the death-charg'd vapours fly, 
Soon as the mighty Tempeft drives his blafts, 
And thro' the lurid gloom his lightning cafts, 
Vanish the congregated brood of ills, 
And health and funfhine all the landfcape fills j 
So, when wan Indolence and timid Joy, 
The native fpirit of the mind deftroy, 
And fiends of Hell, and fprites of loathfome Pain, 
Self-love, Lufl, Gluttony, and Hate, enchain j 
The toils of war, the battle's thundering ftorm, 
The fieepy current of the foul reform: 



( 191 ) 

The loaded bofom purge, and bid it flame 
With the pure throbbings of a generous fame, 
And light with hope, and airy with the fire 
Of bleft Ambition, up to Heaven afpire ! 



( 193 ) 



RETIREMENT. 



A FRAGMENT. 



Ye woods, that underneath your covering wings 

Hide my tir'd frame, all hail ! Here Noife, and Toil. 

Hollow-eyed bafe Intrigue, and Envy pale, 

Black Malice, and envenom'd Calumny, 

Dare not difturb the filence of your reign : 

Here I can woo lone Quiet, here collect 

My fcatter'd thoughts, and to my enfeebled mind 

Call back new vigour ; here can re-arrange 

The forms, that now in wild confusion float 

On my tumultuous brain. Be prefent, Mufe ! 

And as the mift withdraws, and every thought 

Takes its due fhape before the mental eye, 

Aid me to paint it in the living fong ! 

Greeen fields, and whifpering trees, and living 
ftreams, 
And hills and vales, where graze rich herds, and friik 
The new-born lambs, before my fancy play. 
O for the pencil dipt in Nature's hues, 



( w ) 

Which, guided by fweet Thomfon's magic hand, 
Touch'd with due brilliance all their glowing charmst 
Or thine, more varied Cowper, in whofe flrain, 
Now moral and now gay, now rural fcenes 
Burfi with enchantment on the raptur'd fight! 

Where yonder (hepherd's hut, that on the knoli 
Crown'd by thofe ancient elms, which overhang 
Its low thatch'd roof, jufl peeps, there dwell a race 
Who fee the morning dawn and evening fet 
Jn all their glories. Thro' the livelong day 
HeavVs purefl breezes brace their vigorous limbs 3 
Labour makes rest delightful j to coarfe fare 
Keen appetite gives zest j and found their fleep 
On the hard pallet, while the rocking winds, 
That whistle thro' their crazy tenement, 
But lull them to a more profound repole. 

For me had Providence that humbler lot 
Decreed, methinks my days had happier been, 
Than now to sickly Indolence a prey, 
Wafting with cares, and torn with worldly wrongs: 
Then Health had nerv'd my feeble form, andbloom'd 
My pallid cheek j and in this languid eye 
Sweet Cheerfulnefs her dancing rays infpir'd. 
Gay had I bounded o'er the diftant hills, 
Breafted the piercing blaft, or with the wind 
In equal race contended, unfatigued ! 

o 






( 194 ) 

then how grateful had the clofe of eve 
'Heturn'd me to my little ftied, the hearth 
Bright-blazing, and the lowly couch of ftraw 1 
But now, alas, to vain anxiety 

1 wake, and as the minutes drag along, 
Gurfe the long day, yet no relief at night 
Find j for, tho' weary, feverilli heats deny 
Hest to my aching frame j and Sleep aloof 
Hovers, as if in mockery of my prayers. 

Ambition treads not in thefe peaceful haunts, 
But Innocence is leagued with trueft Joy. 
And what can life afford compared with thefe ? 
Can rank and riches, fplendid palaces, 
The gaudy equipage, the liveried flave, 
Appeafe the anxious cares, the guilty pangs, 
That lurk within the heart 5 or lull to reft 
Corporeal ftckness ? — Short, alas, the reign 
Of worldly greatnefs ! Death comes unprepar'd, 
Perchance e'en while you ftretch the arm to grafp 
The bauble, for which years of toil, and crime, 
And fuffering, have been wafted; when your heir 
By a ihort courfe of folly undermines 
The tottering column of your hard-earn'd fame. 
And finks it in the cluft from whence it rofe* 

Happy is he, who 'crofs yon floping field 
Directs the labouring ploughfhare, and inhales 



( '105 ) 

The fragrance of the frefh-turn'd foil, till noon 
Relieves his weary team, and brings him back 
To th' antique hall, which in our grandfire's days 
Own'd loftier habitants, and has beheld 
Many a bold race of feudal lords expire 
'Neath its fantaftic roof; for there the board 
Spread by the frugal dame affords a feaft 
More exquifife to him, whom healthy toil 
Invigorates, than regal banquets feem 
To the poor fickly minion of a court. 

never may I in the tainted air 

Of crowded cities, where the din of trade 
And the loud clamours of corrupted mobs 
Affail my fenfes, be again immur'd ! 

1 feek thefe fhades to hide my tortur'd head 
From an unjuft, cppreffive, hated world. 

The gloom of dark umbrageous boughs; the frefh 
And perfum'd odour that the loaded breeze 
Bears from the quivering leaves; the pathway cool, 
That takes with ibft embrace my aching feet, 
Soothe my worn fpirit, calm my trembling fteps, 
And to exiftence rays of hope recall. 
I hear no fhout of mobs ; I hear no - roll 
Of rattling cars, bedaub'd with new-got wealth, 
And deck'd with purchas'd blood-ftain'd coronets, 
Thund'ring along the streets, and threat'ning loud 
O 2 






( m ) 

To crufh fuch poor and humble worms as f. 

I hear no more the coarfe obftreperous din 

Of purT'd-up lawyers, venal, flupid, fierce, 

Blind to all merits but their own, and arm'd 

With all a pleader's fubtle tricks to clofe 

The door, which f hence has open'd to themfelves. 

I hear no coxcomb Lord, who, having climb' d 

By the bafe arts a tool and minion loves, 

Babbles his finical and frothy fluff, 

And ftrives to legiflate for all the world.* 

But wand'ring filent on, a gradual calm 

Spreads o'er my heart; " there yet is peace for me," 

I cry; and quick my buoyant fpirit fprings, 

And throws in fcorn its load of cares away. 

Then Fancy rifes from lethargic chains, 

Beneath whose weight long time opprefs'd fhe lay ; 

And as fhe lifts her hand, and waves her rod, 

Up the long viftas, on the opening lawns, 

I fee gay Hope, with all her brilliant train, 

"Weave the quick dance, and fpread the fplendid (how. 

But, as the rays from her refulgent locks 

Glancing, inveft the diflant fcenes in light, 

O let no more the falfely-glittering toys 

Of curfl: Ambition with delufive gleam 

* Is none fuch to be found in the living Peerage? 



( m ) 

Attract my fight ; but be its choice fome ccf r 
Where in the gentle funftnne of Content 
Domeftic privacy endears the dayj 
Where Learning fpreads her inexhaufled tomes, 
And deep Reflection cheats the toil of time. 

O what are now to me the rancorous looks 
Of fcornful Rivalry ; the fordid tricks 
Of felfilh Artifice ; the glance oblique 
Of Slander, fpitting, coward-like, its gall 
On the poor victim's undefended back ? 
What is the fneer of bloated riches ? What 
The ideot tofs of Titles, which the fpoils 
Of Fraud, Extortion, Rapine, have acquir'd ? 
They agitate my heart no more; they ca# 
A gloom no more upon my alter'd mien. 
Intent on other themes, that calm my foul, 
And elevate my thoughts, with dauntlefs eye 
I look on all the ills of life, and view 
Unmoved " the ministers of human fate," 
That ftill around me lurk. — O balmy breeze, 
That fann'ft this bofom with thine odorous wings, 
Still blow, and let me- bare it to thy breath. 
It beats not now with wild tumultuous throbs: 
But thrills with fweet ferenity, while calm 
Hangs the cerulean canopy of Heaven, 
And Silence the foft light enchanted wooas* 



( 198 ) 

Now wakes the poet's flrain ; from yonder fhade* 
Methinks I bear the rapturous notes pour'd forth. 
O hail, ye gifted matters of the Lyre! 
If, long an alien to your holy rites,.. 
Loft I have wander'd, once again admit- 
A fad repentant votary to your mriues ! 
From you he feeks for genuine joy : from you 
He alks the charm that bids the gloomieft depths. 
Of Solitude to fmile, and peoples all 
The frowning wildernefs with heavenly forms. 

O thou, from whofe infpired lips arofe 
The tale of ,e Fairy catties, ofbrave.Knights 
And gentle Ladies — whofe immortal fong 
Fierce wars, and faithful loves have moraliz'd," 
O fay, while haunting favage foils, * amid 
Barbaric clans, whofe difcord rude, and yells 
Of hideous tone, might e'en appal the hearts . 
Of ftouteit heroes, fay, enchanting Bard, 
What but the Mufe could foothe thofe anxious days 
Of never-ceafing peril — She, who bade 
E'en Mulla's murmuring waters, as thou lay'ft 
Calm on her banks, while Murder flalk'd around, 
Nurfe thy fweet dreams, and cherifh for thy lyre 
The brilliant fcenes of vifionary worlds! 

* See Spenfer's Sonnets to Lord Ormond, and Lord Grey 
of Wiltor*. 



( m ) 

And thou, fublimeft Milton, from whofe tongue - 
Flow'd holy infpiration, when befet 
With poverty, with farrow, blame and fcorn, 
t( With dark nets and with dangers compafs'd round," 
What but, the Mufe, thy dreary rooms could light 
With-glories of feraphic brilliancy? 

But where, O Nymph, doll thou delight to dwell? 
What are the fcenes, that feem to fofter moft 
Thy day-dreams ? High-o'erarching bowers, the fong^ 
Of birds, and lapfe of rivers, and the figli 
Of Zephyr in the leaves ? — On graffy banks- 
The poet throws his carelefs limbs,, while cool 
Beneath his feet the rippling current runs, 
And, as before his half-fhut eyes appear 
Ten thoufand glorious fhapes, he weaves the lay., 
And'feels unutterable joy, as grow 
The fairy forms of his creative brain. 

Thou, who could' ft ope the fountains of the heart, 
At whofe pathetic eloquence the eye 
Streams with big tears, and fobs- the heaving breaft, 
Unhappy Otway ! as on Arun's marge 
Thine infant form was ftretch'd, what airy imps 
Of pure angelic foftnefs hover'd o'er 
Thy young imagination ! What fvveet notes 
Of inexpreffive tendernefs and joy 
Witb-exquifite vibration thrilVd thine ear!- 



( 200 ) 

O cruel was the fate, that led thy fteps, 

From thefe the Mufe's haunts, (where ftill fhe deigns- 

To linger, and infpire her prieftefs, her, 

From whofe enchanting lyre awake the tones, 

That touch the bofom and the fancy fill,*) 

Led thy young Heps to camps and courts impure, 

Where felfilh Luxury and low-born Vice 

And fenfual manners brutaliz'd the foul : 

Where mean degenerate thoughts beneath the pomp 

Of glittering vefts debas'd the fhape of man! 

Ah! ill-ftarr'd child of genius, could'ft thou wafle 
Thy voice infpir'd on groveling tribes like thefe? 
How did they prefs the fragance of thy mind, 
Pluck off its flowers, and rifle all its fweets 
To veil the poifon of their fetid thoughts, 
Then " throw thee like a naufeous weed away," 
For very want in loath'fome dens to die.f 

* Mrs. Charlotte Smith. 

■f " Thomas Otway, fon of Humphry Otway, ?e£r.or of Wol- 
beding in Suffex, was bom at Trottin in that county, March 3, 
1651, fent to Winchefter fchool, and thence to Oxford; but 
deferred the Univerfity 1674. He died at a fpunging-houfe, 
known by the name of the Bull, on Tower-hill, on April 14,. 
168 5, aged about thirty-five. years." From Oldys's M'SS ; 
who adds, that " in the collection of Familiar Letters of Lord 
Rocheiler, &c. 1697, there are fix of Otway, written to Mrs. 
Barry, the a&refs, in a very paffionate and pathetical ftyle, and 



( 201 } 

Would, thou hadft never left thy native fields, 
But heard the woods, that whifper'd o'er thy births 
And ftreams that prattled to thine infant lips, 
Still to thy manhood murmur! Then perchance 
Some new Monimia with yet fofter voice, 
Some Belvidera in pathetic tones 
Of tendernefs e'en yet more exquifite, 
Had pierc'd cur hearts and lifted up our fouls ! ! 
O form'd of texture too refin'd, of thought 
Too nice for worldly intercourfe, no groves 
Had been too thick for thee; the chequer'd gloom 
Had footh'd the coming phantoms of thy mind, 
And rang'd them in new virions, beautiful 
As tints of air-drawn catties ! But the fiend 
Ambition crofs'd thee ; thy infpired voice 
Was chang'd to mortal ; and an early grave 
Was the befl gift thy haplefs lot could gain! 

Mother of Virtue, Emprefs of the lyre, , 
O lovely Solitude, with whom alone 
Sweet Senfibility is fafe, to thee, 
Only to thee is my tumultuous heart 

much more eloquent than any otherof his writings." — "Otway,'*' 
fays Oldys, " was more beholden to Captain Symonds, the 
vintner, in whofe debt he died 400 1. than to all his patrons of 
quality. See Les Soupirs de la Grand Bretagne, or the Groans 
of Great Britain, Svo. 1713, p. 07." 



( 202* ) 

Fit gueft ! Beneath thy peaceful wing fubfider 
The wild confufion, which the fhout of mobs, 
The din of company, the jest, the fneer, 
Envy's fcance look, and Hatred's favage frown 
Upraife. With thee vaniih the empty with 
Of mean distinction, the degrading figh 
For empty honours ; each unholy thought, 
Ungenerous hopes, malignant prophecies,: 
Refentment, Scorn, Difguife — Yet there are griefs, . 
Not all the calm of filent woods, and ftreams 
Scarce murmuring, can ever foothe. Intent 
Upon the heart the blood-ftain'd vultures fix, . 
Gnawing with greedy appetite their prey! — 
How oft with eyes upon the ground I lit 
From hour to hour, while frill th' incumbent weight 
Heavier and heavier grows! I with for night, 
But thro- the night the cowering demons ply , 
With maw, infatiate, nor does th'. opening dawn 
Bring eafe ! Exhaufted, lifelefs, I again 
Sink on my couch, and wi ill again for night. 

Blow all ye winds! Ye fpirits of the ftorm > 
Direct the fhrieking blaft, at which the grove 
Shakes all its branches, and the foreft groans I 
(Met me mingle in the roaring war 
©f. elements j and rouze this languid frame?' 






( 203 } 

Then may the- fiends perchance, that torture me/. 
Affrighted fly 5 and once again my lips 
Sound undifturb'd the gentle paftoral pipe! 

Echoes the fhepherd's pipe o'er liftening plains, 
And woods and vales his calm delight ; he tighs 
Soft on his oaten flops, and on the breeze 
Floats the fweet found along the filent air:. 
It feems to fpeak ferenity to me : 
The boiling of my breaft fubfides to peace y 
And vigorous eafe returns. Philofophy: 
Now opes her volumes to the ardent view ; 
The heart and all its windings ftand difplay'cL- 
To my inquiring gaze; the fwelling blifs 
Of confcious Virtue; th' undifguifed pang 
Of Vice, for tranfient pleafures bought too high $ 
Sorrow's low murmur, Friendship's fecret tear 
For cold Neglect; Affection's burfting cries . 
For the loft object of her frantic love ; 
Hypocrify's deep-cover'd with; the gall 
Working with venomous force in Envy's breaft j 
All thefe, and yet a thoufand more, with tints 
Changing, and various as the rainbow's hues. 
To Contemplation's eye diftinct appear. 

Now Hiftory unfolds her pictur'd (tores, 
And {hews hew- vain are all the. gay purfui t§ .... 



( 204 ) 

Of fboliih Man ; bow empty is the toy 

The blood- ftain'd Conqueror gains; what tranfient 

flowers 
Bloom in the thorny wreath the tlatefman wears! 
Here Honour climbs in vain; at every point 
Some ruffian guards the fteep afcent, and moves 
The ftruggler backwards, often to the pit ,. 
Of dire destruction, whence he ftarts no more. 
Here Genius pines deprefs'd, while brazen tongues- 
Ufurp the chair of Wifdomj and Intrigue, 
And Falfehood, in triumphant fplendor ride. 

He, who can look on fuch a fcene as this> 
And (igh not for the calm of woodland fhades, 
And innocent images, and fragrant airs 
Refreming, and the fong of birds, and moan 
Soothing, tho' mournful, of the lonely breeze, 
Has but a worldling's heart, that ne'er can beat 
With one high with, afpiring Virtue claims. 

'Mid all the beauties of this wondrous Orb, 
'Tis the coarfe fpirit feeks life's bufy paths 5 
Noife, buftle, crowds, activity, turmoil. 
How rare is Virtue found with Power or State! 
Courts, fenates, camps, fcarce know her: and the 

road 
Ambition travels, is befet with crime \ 



( 205 ) 

"Where yonder ancient walls of flint uprear 
Their lofty roof, far feen for many a mile,* 
And yon old neighbouring park, + now thick o'er- 

grown 
With tangled copfe-wood, fpreads its wild domain 
O'er many a flat, and many a dell reel ufe, 
How often thro' the gloom of wintry clouds,, 
Loft in its folitary fhades I ftray, 
Wrapt in the dreams of former days ! I view 
The war-worn Knight, with fpoils and trophies 

deck'd, 
Forth from the porch, whofe antique fpandrils ftill 
Malta's white crofs adorns, forth iffuing, mount 
The bounding courfer, and with hounds and horn 
Dafh thro' thefe coverts, while thro' each recefs 
Rings the repeated echo of their cries. 
" O peace, O innocence, O lovely fports," 
I hear him cry, " whofe healthful, chearing toil, 
Whofe rapture ' after no repentance draws 3' 

* St. John's in Swingfield, Kent, an ancient preceptory of 
the Knights of St. John of Jerufalem. On the main road from 
Canterbury to Dover, after paffing the Half-Way-Houfe, it is a 
confpicuous object on the right for fome miles. See a very 
accurate print of this curious relic in Brayley's Beauties of 
England, (Kent). 

j- Called Swingfield Park, now overgrown with wood. 






( 206 ) 

O never, never, may I know again 
The brawls of a tumultuous hateful v orld 1 
Thro' the wide globe, acrofs the raging main, 
O'er earth's mod lavage haunts ; the battle's rage, 
Th' Aflaflin's den, the Enchanter's mad'ning fpells, 
I've fought the phantom Fame, as one who held 
The key, that op'd the door to Happinefs. 
But yet, e'en when the Syren led to halls 
Of feall and merriment; the fong, the dance, 
The gorgeous fhowj 'the - crowd of belted chiefs, 
Heroes, and beauteous dames 3 I never knew 
Joys fo ferene as thefe fo cheaply bought! 

madnefs to go far, and feek {o wide 
Thro' danger, and thro' guilt, for that Tmall pearl, 
Which at ; fo little coft isfound at home ! 
When evening {hades defcend, with mind at eafe, 
And limbs juft fitted to repofe, I feek 
The venerable dome, and as the fire 
Cafts its bright blaze acrofs the war-clad hall, 

1 enter, and, to temperate feafl attun'd, 
Enjoy the luxury of reft, and feel 
Night's ftillnefs creeping on, tillfighing blafts, 
3uft murmuring, fink my frame to flumbers deep. 
E'en the fweet dream of perils paft no more 
Flits cfofs my brain : but in, profound repofe 



( ^0/ ) 

I He, and, waking with the morning's beam, 
Rife calm and vigorous to my pure delights; 
And thus I afk the remnant of my life 
To wear away; then near yon humble fane 
beneath a turf-clad grave to lleep in peace!" 



Q&tera dejufii. 









( WS ) 



ELEGIAC LINES, ON MRS. LEFROY, 

WHO DIED BY A FALL FROM HER HORSE, DEC. l6> 
1804*. 

WRITTEN IN DEC. 1 S06. 

TDeep grief is dumb -, elfe long ago, dear fhade, 
To thee the mournful Mufe her rites had paid: 
Whelm'd with the flroke, e'en now ray palfied brain 
Struggles with feeble effort at the flrain : 

* The following character of her appeared in the Gentle- 
man's Magazine, vol. ixxiv. p. 1178. " To do juftice to the 
character of Mrs. Lefroy would require a command of glowing 
and pathetic expreffion far beyond the powers of the writer of 
this article. She was alike the delight of the old and the young, 
of the lively and the fevere, the rich and the poor. She received 
from Nature an intellectual capacity of the higheft order ; her 
^perceptions were rapid ; her memory was tenacious ; her com- 
preheniion was extentive ; her fancy was fplendid ; her fenti* 
ments were full of tendernefs ; and her language was eafy, co- 
pious, and energetic. It may be truly faid of her, that 

* She Hfp'd in numbers, for the numbers came.' 

c < At twelve years old fhe wrote a beautiful Hymn, and ottref 
fmall poems; and two or three of her competitions, written 



( 209 ) 

-The fountain of my 'former tears is dry 3 
And wan Defpair fits frx'd in either eye, 

nearly thirty years ago, are inferted in the firft volume of 'the 
Poetical Regifter, p. 32,36, 112. Thefe poems are eafy, ele- 
gant, and full of thofe natural graces which form a charming 
• contraft to that laboured and turgid ftyle fo lately fafhionable. 
Yet they convey a very faint idea of the powers, which, had me 
beftowed a little more effort and frequency on fuch occupations, 
'flie could have exhibited. But pofieffed of various qualities to 
pleafe, and capable of delighting by more general and focial at- 
traction, fhe never afpired to the fame of an author. It was 
only an accidental impulfe that occafionally prompted her to 
feize the pen ; when fhe wrote, for private iimufement, a few 
glowing and unaffected lines, with the fame forcible and care- 
lefs rapidity, with which (he talked : in thefe, however, a faga- 
■ cious reader will fee what a more conflant and regulated atten- 
tion to this art could have enabled her to perform. It was 
by the tenor of her amiable and virtuous life, by her lively 
and enchanting manners, by the overflowing benevolence of 
' her difpofition, by clothing the naked, by feeding the hungry, 
by inftructing the ignorant, by healing the fick, and by com- 
' forting the mourner, that fhe has won a more noble wreath 
''of fame, and drawn over her grave the lading tears of her ago- 
nized friends and numerous acquaintance, and the heartbroken 
lamentations and earned prayers of the poor 1 

Actuated by the warmth of her natural fenfibility, and -in- 
fpired by the elevated dictates of a religion, which predomi- 
nated over her whole mind, fhe fuffered neither the allure- 
ments of fociety, to which no one was fo fenfible, nor the 
attachments of blood and friendship, which no one ever felt 
more exquifitely, to feduce her from thofe more humble du- 
ties, which fhe exercifed in unwearied endeavours to ameliorate 



( 210 ) 

Ah ! Time, that boafts to mellow down the hues 
Of wild Regret, and o'er her form difTufe 
A foothing fadnefs, teaches me to know 
With keener certainty my darkening woe ! 
At every care, and every riling joy, 
Each tafk, that would my wand'ring thoughts employ, 
The morning ramble, and the evening toil, 
Thro' life I look'd for thy confoling (mile! 
But now, whene'er I Learning's page unroll, 
And flrive by ftudious pains to raife my foul, 
Soon as in vain I feek thy cheering look, 
Down from my' unclafping hands defcends the book! 

the condition of poverty and wretchednefs. Whoever fre- 
quented her houfe, at which hofpitality and benignity con- 
fiantly reigned, has feen her at her daily talk of teaching the 
village children to read, to write, to work, to make bafkets 
of ftraw ; has. feen her adminifter medicines to the lick, and 
confolation to the afflicted; and has feen the numerous re- 
fort from a wide-fur rounding neighbourhood, of whom fhe 
communicated the important benefits of vaccine innoculation 
to upwards of 800 with her own hand. Of fuch a character, 
fo fuddenly taken away, when neither age nor illnefs had 
yet arrived to impair her mind or conftitution, even they who 
knew her not, cannot blame this long memorial : for where 
is fuch an union of admirable qualities to be found? In in- 
tellect, in heart, in temper, in manners, in drift and elevated 
principles, in pure and untainted conduct, fhe has left no 
fecond behind her." 



( 2H ) 

Forgetful of my lofs, if tranfient fire 
Impels thofe hands to feize the filent lyre, 
To thee I bid it pour its trembling tone ! — 
Thou beared not! — it breathes a dying moan; 
And inftantly the rifing fpirit's flown 1 
Sometimes I wake from fome enchanting dream 
Bright with the Mufes' rainbow-tin6lured beam, 
Or deck'd with golden pomp, and all the fhow 
That bold Ambition's gorgeous flames beftow ; 
Glowing, I hade, my raptures to impart j 
But thou, alas! art gone ; and to my heart 
Cold chilling damps of hopelefs anguifh dart. 

Lovelieft of human beings, Sifter, Friend, 
Inftructor, Guardian, where can ever end 
The praife, that to thy angel worth belongs; 
Worth that has e'en tranfcended poets' fongs ! 

In every walk of life, beloved, adord, 
How have all ranks thy haplefs fate deplor'd ! 
How did thy liberal hand, and melting voice, 
Bid the chill'd heart of Poverty rejoice ! 
Amid the circles of the rich and wife, 
How fpoke the mental radiance of thine eyes ! 
How charm'd the wifdom of thy flowing tongue! 
How from thy breaft the lore of angels fprung ! 
P 2 






( 212 ) 






But while thy mortal relics fl umber here, 
Moiften'd by Love's, by Friend (hip's, Virtue's tear, 
Thy blifsful fpirit, O exalted Saint, 
Which not the mixture of earth's mould could taint. 
Wanders triumphant; and the f welling lyre, 
Touch'd by thy human hands with hallow'd fire, 
Around the throne, where Tinging Seraphs blaze, 
Strikes in glad notes to thy Creator's praife! 






NOTES. 



SONNETS. 

It has been the fafhion of late to defpife Sonnets, more 
efpecially thofe, which, on account of the technical re- 
^ petition, and contexture, of the rhymes, are called legi- 
timate. All the early portion of the following were 
written and published at a time when this fort of com- 
pofition was not common ; and few had been offered to 
the public, fince the clofe of queen Elizabeth's reign, 
but thofe of Milton, in the time of Charles I. and thofe 
of Mr. Thomas Warton in 1777, and Mr. John Bamp- 
fylde in 1778.* What I now reprint, fir It appeared in 
March 1785. But in the preceding fpring were given 
to the world, under this title, the fir ft enchanting 
Poems of the late Mrs. Charlotte Smith, which I never 
faw, till after my own were printed : they did not ad- 
here to the ftrict rules of this kind of metre; but per- 
haps they were the better for it ; for they poffeffed that 
freedom and eafe, which it is fcarce pofiible to preferve 
while entangled by the complicated rules of the ancient 
fonnet. For my own part, it was, while at Cambridge, 

* Some excellent tranflations of this kind appeared foon afterwards in the 
elegant, learned, and interefting notes of Mr. Hayley's poetical EpilUes on 
Epic Poetry. 



( 214 ) 

in my twentieth year, that constantly poring over Mil. 
ton, and increafing in my admiration of his early poems, 
from the impotent attempt of Johnfon to decry them, I 
proceeded from that admiration to a rafli effort to imi- 
tate thofe fimply-majeftic productions in this way, which 
the great critic with fuch rude and unfeeling farcafm 
had condemned to utter contempt. How I fucceeded, 
confidering my age, and other circumftances, my readers 
have long had an opportunity of judging, if they have 
thought it worth a judgment. At this diftance of time 
I can myfelf perceive, that T was not able to conquer 
the ftiffnefs, which this fort of metre generally caufes. 



SONNET I. page 3. 

The fentiments contained in this Sonnet, however 
inadequately expreffed, were perfectly fincere. While 
many of the author's friends appeared diffatisfied with 
his furrendering himfelf to fo romantic a purfuitas that 
of poetry, he was anxious to juftify himfelf both to his 
own confcience, and to the few, whofe opinion he moft 
regarded. He had weil-wifhers, who looked to a career 
for him of more oftentatious ambition ; who thought 
that his humble talents were wafted, except in the chafe 
of wealth and honours; and who expected from him 
therefore an application to more ufeful and better- 
rewarded fludies ; but they forgot what Cowley has faid 
of him, who has been once touched with a fondnefs for 
the Mufe ; 

** Where once fuch fairies dance, no grafs doth ever gro-.v," 



( 215 ) 

Years however followed, in which this paffion was fup- 
preflfed and blighted, by difappointment and untoward 
accidents : but the ground, alas! lay barren, for it had 
been rendered unfit to bear any other fruit. 

The tone of some of the expreflions in this Sonnet 
was, I think, fuggefted by fome pafTages in one of 
Milton's. 



SONNET III. page 5. 

After three and twenty years further experience of 
the world, I feel with (till more force, the fentiments, 
which thus iffued from the depth of my heart at fo early 
an age. 

SONNET IV. page 6. 

I fufpect that part of the language was fuggefted by 
a familiarity with the poems of Collins, who was one of 
the greatelt favourites of my youthful tafte. 



SONNET VI. page 8. 

Some of the exprenlons here were fuggefted by a well- 
known paffage in Shakefpeare. 



SONNET VII. page 9. 

The exclufive attention and honours that were paid 
to mathematical purfuits while the author was at Cam- 



( 210 ) 

bridge, and the neglect and contempt with which claP 
iical attainments were treated, notwithstanding all that 
has been faid of ciaffical medals, &c. filled him with clif- 
guft, and caufed this effaficn of difcontent. In truth 
the matter could fcarcely be otherwife, fo long as the 
tutors and fenior refidents were principally compofed 
of men, who had acquired diftincfion, on taking their 
degrees, folely in the former ftudies, which was princi- 
pally the cafe with thofe educated in the North, who 
brought with them to college more (kill in thofe fciences > 
than a youth from Eton, or Werirninfter, or Harrow, 
can hope to obtain during his whole undergraduatefhip ; 
but who were, for the moll part, utterly ignorant even 
in the rudiments of ciaffical knowledge. A certain, 
proficiency in mathematics is neceffary to qualify a per- 
fon to he a candidate for the claflical medal. But more 
than this: the fa6r. that this medal has almoft always 
been attained by thofe who have flood at the head of the 
lift for mathematical eminence fpeaks for itfelf. The 
prefent chief juftice of the King's Bench attained both ; 
but his northern origin is well knowm : and further re- . 
marks are too obvious to be neceiTary, 



SONNETS X. and XI. 

Thefe two Sonnets were not inferted in the firft- 
edition. 

All that can be faid on the fubjeft of hunting, has^ 
been fo beautifully given by Somervile, that all at- 
tempts to emulate him are hopelefs. The coarfe joke 
of I?r.Johnfon ? that " he writes very well for a . gentLs- 



( m ) 

man," is too contemptible to deferve an anfwer. Is 
composition then a trade, a profeffion, or a maniu 
fa&ure ? 



SONNET XII. page 14, 

The lady, now of high rank, to whom this Sonnet 
was addreifed, has fince, by her amiable conduct in the 
difcharge of the moit important duties of life, as much 
excited the efteem, as (he formerly, by her beauty, at- 
t rafted the admiration of her acquaintance. 

The ftru6hire of the expreflions is an obvious parody 
of a beautiful defcription in Milton. 



SONNETS XIII.— X.V.— XVIII. 

The fcene of thefe Sonnets, the place of my nativity, 
the feat of my fathers, ftill rills me with the deepeft 
filial affection. My weak words were then, and are ftill,. 
totally inadequate to a defcription of its wild and reclufe 
beauties. I left it for Cambridge in Oclober 1780, be- 
fore I had completed my 18th year, to return to it as 
my home no more. My dear father died in the follow- 
ing month; and, as a younger brother, it became my 
lot to part from all the fcenes that had been entwined 
with my earliest pleafures, for ever. Years could not 
obliterate the prejudice (as it was called) that no other 
fpot on the earth could be the fame to me. There were 
thofe who told me, " it was a dull place, an ugly place," 
and other fcornful words, and they wondered at my 
partiality. But if it was dull and ugly to others, (which 



( 218 ) 

yet I defy any one of good tafte to fay with fincerity 
that it was) it was not dull and ugly to me ! 

" Nefcio qua natale fclum du'cedine cunftos 

O ! on what a race of virtues and innocent amufe- 
ments has the cold grave been clofed for ever fince that 
time ! I remember that eventful autumn, above all the 
eventful ones, which are impreffed with fuch vividnefs, 
perhaps exceeding the reality, on my haraffed fancy ! 
A fyftem of manners, and habits of life, which I have 
not feen fince, were then broken up for ever! Would 
that I could once more behold them reftored ! That 
fimplicity, rural contentment, and unoflentatious hofpi- 
tality could be again revived ! But in the certain 
changes of this ever-reftlefs globe, in the inevitable de- 
terioration of modes and eviftoms, as a nation proceeds 
from wealth to luxury, and from luxury to decline, 
philofophy warns me that my wifh is impoffible. 

The feat here alluded to, ftands on an high hill, em- 
bofomed in noble trees, about midway on the road be- 
tween Canterbury and Dover. It forms a confpicuous 
obje£t immediately on afcending to Barham Downs from 
Bridge, and continues to exhibit a piciurefque but vary- 
ing feature aerbfs a deep valley on the right, nearly till 
within five miles of Dover. In the reign of queen Eli- 
zabeth it was the feat of the learned family of Digges, 
whofe fon fir Dudley, a patriot of fome celebrity, is 
known among thofe who firft made a itand in parlia- 
ment againft the encroachments on the liberties of the 
people attempted by Charles I. The houfe is of vari- 
ous dates; part modern, and part very ancient. The 
laft Sonnet of thefe three, was written ten years after 
the others. 



( 2i 9 ) 



SONNET XVII. 



Perhaps it may be unwife to remind the reader of 
Milton's 7th Sonnet, beginning " Hoiv foon hath 
Time" &c. 



SONNET XX. 

" Did you never," fays Gray, in one of his letters, 
" obferve, (--while rocking 'winds are fifing loud) that 
paufe, as the gull is recollecting itfelf, and rifmg upon 
the ear in a thrill and plaintive note, like the fwell of an 
.ZEolian harp ? I do affure you, there is nothing in the 
world fo like the voice of a fpirit. Thomfon had an ear 
fometimes; he was not deaf to this ; and has defcribed 
it glorioufly, but given it another different turn, and of 
more horror. I cannot repeat the lines j it is in his 
Winter." — Gray's JVorks, by Ma/on, 281. 



SONNET XXI. 
See Milton's 20th Sonnet to Mr. Lawrence. 



SONNETS XXVI. to XXXII. 

All thefe were written for the novel of Mary De Clif- 
ford, which was begun in the end of October 1791 5 and, 
being fent to the prefs in meets as it was written, was 
publifhed in January 1792. After a lapfe of nearly fix- 



( 220 ) 

teen years, the warmth of fome of its defcriptions feems 
to require this notice of its date. All the Sonnets, ex- 
cept the firll and lad of them, are written in the cha- 
racter of Wood vile, the hero of the piece. The de- 
fcription of Grafton is of a fictitious place ; though fuch 
was the name of the refidence of the real family of 
Woodvile. 



SONNETS XXXIII. to XXXVIII. 

The novel, in which thefe were inferted, it is not 
neceffary to name. Much clamour was raifed againft it, 
on pretence of perfonalities, fome of which had no 
other ground than the malignant fancies of thofe who 
applied them. The XXX-IVth SONNET was written 
after a vifit to Penfhurft, in Kent, formerly the magni- 
ficent feat of the Sydneys, and Hill owned and inhabited 
by their defcendant by the female line, who has taken 
the name. 



SONNETS XXXIX.— XL.— XLI. 

From a fubfequent novel, which has not engaged equal 
notice, becaufe it was fo cautioufly written, that the very 
perfonalities, for which the former was fo cruelly blamed, 
could not be attributed to it. 



SONNETS XLII. to XLIV. 

Thefe have been publifhed in the 4th volume of the 
Poetical Regifter. They were written at the clofe of 
1S05. 



( 221 ) 



ODE II. page 50. 

My memory may fail me at the diftance of twenty- 
four years; but I fufpecl, from having lately feen again. 
fir William Blackftone's Ode on a fimilar fubjeft, which 
is revived in Mr. Southey's Specimens, that mine was 
fuggefted by it. I had then juft completed my twen- 
tieth year ; and had left Cambridge for chambers in 
the Middle Temple. With a head, at that time, full 
of poetry and romance, I was then the moil unfit being 
upon earth for fuch a ftudy. No utterly unknown lan- 
guage appeared to me more unintelligible. In a ftate 
of mind calculated to throw the mantle of imagination 
over every thing, I was called upon to analyfe and dif~ 
criminate fubjecls, coarfe, hard, dry, and repullive at 
any diftance, but abfolutely difgufung in proportion as 
they were nearly and minutely examined. I had been 
deftined to the bar from boyhood, becaufe my maternal 
anceftor had formerly attained the fummit of his pro- 
feffion, and elevated his family to the highell rank and 
honours ; but, ignorant as I was, I had not expecled an 
arena of fophiftry, inftead of eloquence ; a forum for the 
quibbles of fpecial pleading, inltead of the difplay of 
talents enlarged by the cultivation of general literature, 
and exercifed in the powers of glowing and energetic 
language. I was not prepared to be nofed by attornies* 
clerks, who though ilupid by nature, and quite illiterate 
from want of education, but converfant with copying the 
files of office, would have filenced all the rich and pro- 
found effufions of Burke himfelf ! 1 foon fhrunk there- 
fore into a date of mortified idlenefs and defpondence.j 



( 222 ) 

I never therefore mixed with thefe coarfe fpirits; and 
patted every day and hour away from them, when refi- 
dence could be difpenfed with. Even now my heart 
finks, whenever I enter thofe abodes of gloom, and fo- 
phiftry, and hardnefs of mind. Not but I have among 
them, the moft intimate friend of my youth, a man of 
moll powerful faculties, and as powerful acquirements ; 
but he felt the neceflity of exerting himfelf, and he now 
-experiences the happy effects of it. 



ODE VII. page 68. 

The fcenery of the fecond and third ftanzas of this 
Ode, is taken from the approach to Dover 5 and that of 
the fixth, relates to the cattle there. 



ODE VIII. 

Written at Ewfhot, a feat, which for a few months 
in 1786 was lent the author by a near relation, to whom 
it ftil belongs. 



ODE XIII. Six Bards of Ossian. page 87. 

Gray was particularly ft ruck with this poem of Ofiian, 
or rather Macpherfon. He fays, " It is full of nature, 
and noble wild imagination. Five bards pafs the night 
at the cattle of a chief (himfelf a principal bard) ; each 
goes out in his turn to obferve the face of things, and 
returns with an extempore piclure of the changes he 



( 223 ) 

has feen ; (it is an October night, the harveft month of 
the Highlands). This is the whole plan ; yet there is 
a contrivance, and a preparation of ideas, that you 
would not expect. The oddeft thing is, that everyone 
of them fees ghofts (more or lefs). The idea that 
ftruck, and furprifed me moll is the following. One of 
them, (defcribing a ftorm of wind and rain) fays 

" Ghofts ride on the tempeft to night: 
Sweet is their fong between the gufts of wind ; 
Their fongs are of other worlds /*' 

[Here follows Gray's obfervation about the paufes 
between the gufts already cited, p. 219]. 

He goes on : " There is another very fine picture in 
one of them. It defcribes the breaking of the clouds 
after a ftorm, before it is fettled into a calm, and when 
the moon is feen by fhort intervals. 

" The waves are tumbling on the lake, 

And lafh the rocky fides, 

The boat is brim-full in the cove, 

The oars on the rocking tide. 

Sad fits a maid beneath a cliff, 

And eyes the rolling ftream : 

Her lover promifed to come, 

She faw his boat (when it was evening) on the lake. 

Are thefe his groans in the gale ? 

Is this his broken boat on the flwre? 

See the whole in Laing's edition of OOlan, vol. ii. 
p. 4.14. Mr. Laing is of opinion it is founded on Mac- 



( '224 ) 

pherfon's poem, entitled " The Night -Piece," ibid. p.6>3< 
He adds, "The accumulation of images in the Six 
Bards could only have been accomplifhed by a careful 
aflemblage of what other poets have written upon the 
fubjecl, and by a judicious feleclion of the molt impref- 
five ideas and expreffions in each." 



THE GAMEKEEPER'S RETURN, page 166, 
Firft publifhed in the Poetical Regiirer. 

RETIREMENT, page 193. 

Firil publifhed in Cenfura Literaria, vol. i. ; as was 
■the Fragment on a deserted Mansion, page r.3.3. 



THE E-ND, 



T. Eenfley, Prinrer, 
"E?!t Court, f ieet Street, London. 



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